Church...this wierd thing we do.

As spring approaches my backyard begins developing its "to-do" list for me. When I was on sabbatical a couple of years ago I wrote this poem about two things that may seem different and yet are really have a lot in common - church and my backyard. Sometimes taking your breath away can be fatal...

My church is right behind my house
I call it my back yard
A place where I can just relax
While I’m working hard

Things of beauty call me there
They take my breath away
Yet what delights my eye may be
The death of me someday

For every weed I pull it seems
That two or three take root
At times serenely walking
I’ll smell poop upon my boot

I tell the plants of higher things
Of loving God and neighbor
I sing to them of peace and joy
They call me to hard labor

Oh there’s potential – All can see
What someday it could be
This garden who has crucified
One more divine than me

So why is it I go there?
Why can’t I stay away?
Not really sure, so I blame God
Who wired my DNA

Or maybe there’s a deeper plan
If I have eyes to see
Maybe while I’m tending them
He’s cultivating me.

My church is right behind my house
I call it my back yard
A place where I can just relax…
While I’m working hard.