Soil, Sand, Clay, Concrete

I dig a lot of holes in life.  Fortunately, at least some are literal and not dysfunctional... tangible, earthy holes dug for a specific purpose that involves liberating a tree from a roadway or a plant root bound in a too small plastic container...

Digging holes requires some preparation and pondering.  A sunny day is a bonus. Avoiding the dry season (at least in the West) is wise.  And then comes donning the ragged work clothes, worn and impossibly dirty sneakers, gloves, the right tools (and some of the wrong ones), and on the list goes. Once dressed and equipped for a digging adventure though, I have to take a few moments for the pondering.

Resting my arm on the shovel, acting almost as if I am a wise steward of the land, I look out into the garden, or the woods, or some other part of our acreage, and ponder.

Where might be the best place to set this new green creature free?   Sun, part sun, part shade, morning sun, shade, or afternoon sun?   Along a slope or on the flat? Next to an acid lover or far from one whose pH lurks below 7?   As the pondering progresses and the decisions are locked in... some more slowly than others... some accompanied by a short break to bask in whatever weather is the flavor of the day... the last decision almost always involves the soil mix that will accompany the latest greenie into the ground.

Fertile nurse log soil?  Sand?   No problem.  Easy to dig.  Joyful to plant.

Clay?  Much more intimidating.  Clay with rocks?  Requires a rather lengthy commitment of time and may tempt me to pick another day for my digging adventure. Regardless, I will get around to it. If you know me for any length of time, you know that I don't avoid digging holes for very long.   Always determined to get yet another something or other into the ground.

Concrete, however?  No.  Digging in concrete requires heavy machinery (and a darn good reason to dig it up).   Concrete requires something well beyond myself to turn a spot into a home for my green friends.   I have chipped away, dug into, and scooped away almost any type of soil in my life. Sometimes in more of a crazy frenzy of physical labor than others.  But, I draw the line at concrete. It is more than I (and my lower back) can bear.  Digging and concrete do not go together.

But, if I were in a bind, and just had to plant in a spot overlaid in concrete, I would recruit the appropriate power tool and begin not by digging, not by coaxing, but by shattering... breaking the concrete to pieces, not only so I could haul it out of the way, but also to clear a space for sun to infiltrate, moisture to rest, and nutrients to restore the underlying soil into something that could then host any range of appropriately zoned plants and trees.

I certainly don't and can't fully understand why and how some of our human hearts have become hardened in concrete.   But, after my own many years of digging, I can imagine that our God knows that hardened hearts can't be replanted successfully with any traditional tools.  No measure of fertilizer, seeding, or sunshine can evolve concrete into a lush spiritual ecosystem.

Instead, it seems that the only way to reach hardened hearts appears to be by shattering them... breaking them into a messy multitude of pieces in order to grow anew. In the Old Testament, God regularly orders such shattering events to take place so that His people can begin anew, so hearts can grow fertile agin.  But, in the New Testament, God appears to have left behind the practice of creating tragedy, destruction, and trauma just for the purpose of deconstructing hardened hearts.

In this new age ushered in by His son's presence in this world, God's hands seem, in part, to be tied... by His love for us. As I read the verses in the Bible that speak to hardened, unreachable hearts, my heart is dismayed at the suggestion of hopelessness to those whose hearts are in this resistant and unapproachable state of affairs:

You will indeed hear but never understand and you will indeed see but never perceive.  For this people's heart has grown dull and with their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed... (Matthew 13: 14-15).

Could it be that this is not the whole story?   Could it really be that a heart hardened and overlaid by concrete is beyond hope, beyond reach, and beyond salvation?  Or, instead, is it that an ever vigilant God now has to wait for something of this world to shatter that heart?  to break it beyond apparent repair... and, in the process of working all things for good...

And we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28)

Does He step in and rebuild a once hardened, but now shattered heart... into something more fertile, more reachable, and infinitely more close to Him?

I am painfully aware that this little monologue doesn't solve the hopelessness for some that is embedded in the puzzle of predestination.  But, it does offer more hope for my own service in this world, more motivation to love, more presence to care, and more reminder to be alongside those who hurt... no matter what my Google calendar may suggest otherwise.