three-tiered wonder

So I don't know quite how to describe it, except that it was one of those, "I'm not worthy" moments. We were riding our bikes, from the Jenny Lake campground to the Visitor Center, inside Grand Tetons National Park. Over my shoulder flew a beautiful butterfly, a Western Tiger Swallowtail as it turns out. I was immediately struck by the layers of beauty in front of me - first the butterfly, then my 8-year old daughter Abbie, and beyond her, the grand vista of the Teton range beyond the crystal blue water of Jenny Lake. I wondered then, and many times during our three-week trip in the west, about the beauty evident in the world, and the many ways in which it is revealed to me.

From vast lunar landscapes in the Badlands, to boiling hot crystal clear geysers in Yellowstone, to the arid red-rock of Arches, the multi-hued hoodoos in Bryce Canyon, out-of-place orchards in the water-pocket fold that is Capitol Reef, towering cliffs named for the Biblical Patriarchs in Zion, the breadth and depth of the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley's strange collection of reddish stone monoliths, Mesa Verde's remnants of the Anasazi cultures in the cliff dwellings, Ouray's natural hot springs, and Rocky Mountain National Park's 12,000+ foot highway in the clouds - our family saw, heard, smelled, tasted and touched the beauty of the American west this summer.

Learning from the Amish

I spent the weekend in Amish country, in Newburg, Pennsylvania. Our family has spent quite a few of the past 10 Mother's Day weekends gathering here on the land where my wife's maternal ancestors have lived for the past century or so. Each year on the Saturday before Mother's Day the local Christian school operated by the Amish community organizes a large auction - selling everything from new and used farm and garden tools to beautiful flowering baskets and herbs, to horses, buggies, homemade food like doughnuts, ice cream, soft pretzels, mouth-watering seasoned barbequed chicken, and culminating in a hundred or so hand-crafted quilts and other art.

So after a day of sharing space, buying stuff, farm and country smells, delicious food and craftsmanship ranging from quilting to auctioneering, alongside perhaps 600 Amish and 400 non-Amish folks, I have been wondering about this cultural and faith tradition and trying to piece together an adequate critique and appreciation based on my own tradition within the historic Reformed branch of Protestantism. *disclaimer - I actually know very little about contemporary or historic Amish faith commitments - most of my thoughts are rooted in observation and a loose story line about the Amish. I came away from this past weekend wondering also how to make friends within this tradition who can enlighten me...

A big part of me is jealous, I'll start with that. The Amish community I observe in Newburg has preserved a simplicity of life (or so it appears to me) that my own tradition has long since given up. Not that the Amish life is easier, far from it - in terms of actual work, I'm sure it is much more difficult to complete the tasks of living required by Amish commitments. But not having to think about redeeming new technology, or not having to keep up with a flood of email and cell phone and a variety of forms of popular culture, not to mention the array of worship styles and theological issues that continue to manifest themselves in my tradition, this appears to me as a blessing. Ironically, the contemporary discussion around local food, fair trade economics, organic eating, and general awareness of how justice and consumption link - these all point to the wisdom of the Amish in preserving a local and a simple lifestyle.

And yet. When I think about the reach of a place like Calvin College through the very murky and complex work of doing higher education with an unwavering commitment to engagement with culture and embrace of historic Christianity, I think of what would be lost without this messy engagement. For now, I'm glad for the reminders I get from my Amish brothers and sisters, and I'll continue to wish for a stronger dialogue between our two traditions.

a flourishing garden

"It doesn't matter where you got the seed - if you got it from a Benny Hinn revival or the bottom of a Chicken Coop cup - what matters is how the seed grows in you." This was the quote of the day in this morning's sermon. Colossians 1:1-14 was the backdrop for a baptism, and a celebration of a year of active ministry at Neland church. A good challenge and reminder that our 21st century consumer mentality regarding church and the gospel (I like it this way, not that way - with these people, not those people) is irrelevant to Paul's way of thinking. Several questions arise, though, not least of which is the observation that it was my "choice" to worship at Neland, and this brought me into the place where I could hear this truth preached week after week. What matters is the growth, the vitality, the flourishing of seed and garden.

neighborhood gardens

I spent time with dirt today, and with neighbors. Two good things to spend time with, I think. I transplanted tomatoes that have been growing indoors for the past 6 weeks into bigger pots, and Julie planted beans and lettuce. Then Steve, and JB and I dug with shovels and a roto-tiller to make a second garden bed behind the first. In a few weeks we will plant pumpkins, zuccini, sunflowers, and other good stuff in this bed. Reminds me of Wendell Berry's insistence that topsoil is a signpost of the kingdom. I agree with him.