It was a quiet week at Little Bear Lake. The time away was one long, relaxing, prayerful sigh. The weather was most cooperative, my chair on the deck comfortable, and the books I read were rather engaging. Swimming, paddling, reading, and doing some work around the cabin were the bulk of the time away.
There is something about water that is good for the soul, and the body too. Water can have a calming effect. Aquariums are said to lower blood pressure. Water features not only make a garden lovelier, they also add calm.
The image of water in the Bible is a bit more complete. Though I would prefer to focus on the life-giving properties of water, it has its destructive side, too. Water is chaotic, and the image of Genesis 1 is that before God began creating, everything was a cosmic soup. Water will go wherever it can, even uphill if it has something to move along on. Water is uncontrollable. The wind and the waves will do their thing. Water is powerful, as anyone who has been caught in a strong current can tell you. Sometimes there can be too much water, as history and recent events will testify.
So, given some of its downsides, what is it about water? Is it that until we are born, we are jostled around in it? Is it that we are mostly water? Is there some primorial connection between water and well-being? Though not a fisherman, Jesus spent a lot of time around water, teaching by it, calming it and walking on it. His disciples, several of whom had made their living on the sea, were tossed about and frightened by the wind and waves, perhaps keenly aware of what wind and waves could do. Given all this, we are formally brought into the Christian family with the sign of water. Water makes living possible and unpredictable, perhaps this is why water is a part of our life of faith.
It is no surprise that images about water abound. We are carried from the primordial soup and the Great Deluge, to the life-giving stream. We are brought to the waters of baptism, and to the river of life that runs through the new Jerusalem. Water, it turns out, is our beginning, our middle, and our end. And in the mean time, the middle time, it’s time by, in, and on Little Bear Lake, a place for which I am very grateful, and rarely ready to leave.
I am part of a Sunday School class this summer called Saving Jesus. The video presenters week after week offer a way of understanding and appreciating Jesus that is new to many. This past week the focus was on the parables of Jesus.
Many of us are familiar with these well-loved stories Jesus told. There’s the parable of the Good Samaritan, the Lost Coin, and the Mustard Seed. In just a few words, easily understood, Jesus proclaims an incredible truth about what it means to be God’s person in the world, God, and the reign of God. Most of the time the parables are reassuring to us. We are precious in God’s sight, and there is great rejoicing in heaven when the lost are found. “Neighbor” is defined by one person willing to help another. The reign of God is life-affirming and calls us to a way of living that puts God first.
We lose track of how offensive the parables can be. Though we learned the parable of the Good Samaritan early on in life, we later come to know that the Samaritan should not have been the “hero” in the story. He was one of the most hated and despised people on earth as far as Jesus’ own people were concerned. A woman searching for anything, let alone what was probably a Roman coin, was not to be compared to God.
And then there is the mustard seed. A weed; a plant which, if given half a chance, will take over a garden or field. What does it mean that Jesus compares the reign of God to this? The reign of God is like a wild plant. Once started, it is difficult to control. In a moment, this parable, which used to reassure me that the reign of God will grow, takes on a whole new meaning! In theory I know that God cannot be domesticated, but this? I find it just a bit overwhelming to consider what the reign of God as mustard seed might do in my life, let alone in the world.
The parable of the woman who puts leaven into the dough is the same idea. Once the leaven is in there, it is in there. There’s no taking it out. Yeast is a living organism, and it will do its thing with the dough. What we need to remind ourselves of here is that leaven was not held in high regard in Jesus’ day. Leaven is what you got rid of during the holy time of Passover. Leaven was for ordinary, common days, so leaven and holiness did not necessarily go hand in hand. What does that say about the reign of God?
Though on a good day I can admit that I can’t control God, there’s still something in me that wants to keep the mustard seed in check. I don’t like weeds in my garden! So the question becomes quite evident: in what ways am I “weeding” God out of my life? How am I hoping to “manage” the reign of God? If Jesus’ words have any truth to them, my efforts will be futile, thank God! Yet, how often will we try to keep God in check? How many ways can we find to limit the full effect of God’s reign? I find it interesting that what can be reassuring, that God’s reign is alive in the world today. can also be a bit disturbing. As it turns out, the reign of God is not mine to control. Shocker! It is a God-driven reality, a reality to which we are called and in which we are invited to live.
It was a quiet week at Little Bear Lake. The time away was one long, relaxing, prayerful sigh. The weather was most cooperative, my chair on the deck comfortable, and the books I read were rather engaging. Swimming, paddling, reading, and doing some work around the cabin were the bulk of the time away. 
