Our Stories
Why Being a Christian is Like Mowing My Lawn
By Stew | posted 04/12/2007
“And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people.” (Matthew 14:19)
Last week I mowed my lawn. It’s a big lawn; some might call it a field. I’ve come to think that mowing this lawn is a lot like being a Christian.
I mow on a big tractor mower going up and down a steep hill. I imagine the lawn as my life and mowing as living that life. I think of life and mowing this field of grass as a great battle. That’s why I need a vision of what I’m trying to achieve when I mow—field vision—or bad things happen. Without field vision, the lawn will perish. If I don’t mow, the lawn becomes overgrown, unkempt; blackberry brambles emerge, and dandelions attack. Christian field vision demands that I envision a little bit o Heaven on Earth as I lead my life and mow my lawn. My vision for my lawn includes the aroma, beauty, and orderliness of the resulting lawn; and the creation of a space for family and friends to recreate. Creating recreation is the way I like to think of it. My vision for my life needs a similar detailed reality; otherwise, as we are told in Proverbs 29:18, “Where there is no vision, the people will perish.”
When mowing my lawn, I imagine that the rotating swath of the mower is like the wrath of God in the Old Testament. Especially early in the year when the grass is thick, I mow so that a couple of inches of grass still stands. This setting usually lops off the tops of the taller, more outrageous dandelions, but the low-lying ones still persist. Too low a setting results in a regimen of terror identical to the way in which Sodom and Gomorrah were scalped from the Earth. Note that enforcement of the Law of the Mower is for grass and dandelions alike. You may love the grass and hate the dandelions, but you’ve got to love your enemies too. Each blade of grass is made to conform, not unlike the God of Isaiah who enforces His law on individuals as well as nations.
Dandelions are like sin itself; although beautiful on the outside, they grow deep roots, crowd out the good leaves of grass, and spread with the wind. (Now this is just an analogy, I happen to maintain a relatively wild lawn with lots of dandelions, so I don’t literally think that dandelions are evil, but you are free to think of this as my being too tolerant of sin, too cheap to buy weed killer, or too lazy to apply it. Pick your poison.)
Stuff happens in life that you don’t want to have happen. I’ve got springs running out of the side of the hill where I mow, so I get stuck in the mud quite a bit. I know I’m stuck in the mud when my tires spin and shoot mud all over my backside. Typically this happens because I’m trying to mow through someplace I know is wet, but I’m hoping has too little muck to get me stuck. You may have encountered similar situations in your own life. When I do get stuck, I get a truck and tow the tractor mower out of the mud. I file such experiences under “Fools rush in where angels fear tread.”
Other stuff happens too. Sometimes a hunk of wet grass or a tree branch or a rock gets stuck in the mower deck, preventing the mower blades from turning. When this happens frequently, it’s a sign you have a lawn that needs work, or analogously, your life is messed up big time. But persistence pays off. At first you’ll have to stop and unstick huge hunks of wet grass, branches as thick as baseball bats, and rocks that’d leave Goliath comatose if heaved upon him from a freeway overpass. But eventually, you’ll be left with smaller problems that the mower will quickly solve by chopping them into insignificant subproblems. The lawn is big, the tractor mower greater. Life is big, God is greater.
Mowing a hill is a challenge. God may tell you to mow the hill, but He also expects you to mow the lawn in the right way. You have to mow up and down. Mowing sideways is dangerous because it’s easy then to tip-over the tractor mower. Tip-overs can be fatal. Similarly, when a serious tip-over occurs in life, it’s common for people to seek out a better way to live. They discover that working at cross-purposes to God is folly. They develop a sense of balance and seek to do their work in the right way. (Notice the discover, develop, do sequence here.)
Not all terrain is hilly. On relatively flat grass I’ve found that one of the most enjoyable Christian methods for mowing is the spiral. I start at the center and then start mowing out in a greater and greater circle until I run into the borders of the area being mowed. If a lawn is circular in shape, this can be one of the most efficient ways to mow a lawn because you aren’t backing up and turning around all the time.
You can apply this method to your own life by starting and centering your day with prayer or reading the Bible, and then spiraling from there outward. In this way, your life can be focused on loving God, yet also oriented towards loving others. (Beware using the spiral method on a life that’s not well-rounded. After mowing the big spiral, you can spend so much of your time mowing weird little corners of your life that you’ll go nuts. Trust me.)
Mowing a lawn can be monotonous and lonely. That’s why you’ve got to think about it differently, just as—after you become a Christian--you have to think about living your life differently. Non-Christians sit on the tractor mower of life, and mow their own lawns. In contrast, when you mow as a Christian, you mow like Jesus mows. You sit next to Him on the tractor mower throne, evening the blades of grass of your life, where each blade—though common—is divine, and each blade is meaningful both individually and as part of a larger whole, just as each Christian is part of the larger Church. And grass clippings—like our sins—are atoned for and reused as mulch by the Holy Spirit.
I don’t want to leave you with the impression that mowing makes you a Christian. Anyone can mow, and everyone lives a life. Mowing a lawn can be like being a Christian. Just as Jesus is “the way and the truth and the life,” mowing can be a way to the truth about your own life as a Christian. But sometimes in life, to mow isn’t necessarily better. Sometimes less is mow.
To respond to this message, email Stew at stewka@comcast.net.
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“And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people.” (Matthew 14:19)
Last week I mowed my lawn. It’s a big lawn; some might call it a field. I’ve come to think that mowing this lawn is a lot like being a Christian. I mow on a big tractor mower going up and down a steep hill. I imagine the lawn as my life and mowing as living that life. I think of life and mowing this field of grass as a great battle. That’s why I need a vision of what I’m trying to achieve when I mow—field vision—or bad things happen. Without field vision, the lawn will perish. If I don’t mow, the lawn becomes overgrown, unkempt; blackberry brambles emerge, and dandelions attack. Christian field vision demands that I envision a little bit o Heaven on Earth as I lead my life and mow my lawn. My vision for my lawn includes the aroma, beauty, and orderliness of the resulting lawn; and the creation of a space for family and friends to recreate. Creating recreation is the way I like to think of it. My vision for my life needs a similar detailed reality; otherwise, as we are told in Proverbs 29:18, “Where there is no vision, the people will perish.” When mowing my lawn, I imagine that the rotating swath of the mower is like the wrath of God in the Old Testament. Especially early in the year when the grass is thick, I mow so that a couple of inches of grass still stands. This setting usually lops off the tops of the taller, more outrageous dandelions, but the low-lying ones still persist. Too low a setting results in a regimen of terror identical to the way in which Sodom and Gomorrah were scalped from the Earth. Note that enforcement of the Law of the Mower is for grass and dandelions alike. You may love the grass and hate the dandelions, but you’ve got to love your enemies too. Each blade of grass is made to conform, not unlike the God of Isaiah who enforces His law on individuals as well as nations. Dandelions are like sin itself; although beautiful on the outside, they grow deep roots, crowd out the good leaves of grass, and spread with the wind. (Now this is just an analogy, I happen to maintain a relatively wild lawn with lots of dandelions, so I don’t literally think that dandelions are evil, but you are free to think of this as my being too tolerant of sin, too cheap to buy weed killer, or too lazy to apply it. Pick your poison.) Stuff happens in life that you don’t want to have happen. I’ve got springs running out of the side of the hill where I mow, so I get stuck in the mud quite a bit. I know I’m stuck in the mud when my tires spin and shoot mud all over my backside. Typically this happens because I’m trying to mow through someplace I know is wet, but I’m hoping has too little muck to get me stuck. You may have encountered similar situations in your own life. When I do get stuck, I get a truck and tow the tractor mower out of the mud. I file such experiences under “Fools rush in where angels fear tread.” Other stuff happens too. Sometimes a hunk of wet grass or a tree branch or a rock gets stuck in the mower deck, preventing the mower blades from turning. When this happens frequently, it’s a sign you have a lawn that needs work, or analogously, your life is messed up big time. But persistence pays off. At first you’ll have to stop and unstick huge hunks of wet grass, branches as thick as baseball bats, and rocks that’d leave Goliath comatose if heaved upon him from a freeway overpass. But eventually, you’ll be left with smaller problems that the mower will quickly solve by chopping them into insignificant subproblems. The lawn is big, the tractor mower greater. Life is big, God is greater. Mowing a hill is a challenge. God may tell you to mow the hill, but He also expects you to mow the lawn in the right way. You have to mow up and down. Mowing sideways is dangerous because it’s easy then to tip-over the tractor mower. Tip-overs can be fatal. Similarly, when a serious tip-over occurs in life, it’s common for people to seek out a better way to live. They discover that working at cross-purposes to God is folly. They develop a sense of balance and seek to do their work in the right way. (Notice the discover, develop, do sequence here.) Not all terrain is hilly. On relatively flat grass I’ve found that one of the most enjoyable Christian methods for mowing is the spiral. I start at the center and then start mowing out in a greater and greater circle until I run into the borders of the area being mowed. If a lawn is circular in shape, this can be one of the most efficient ways to mow a lawn because you aren’t backing up and turning around all the time. You can apply this method to your own life by starting and centering your day with prayer or reading the Bible, and then spiraling from there outward. In this way, your life can be focused on loving God, yet also oriented towards loving others. (Beware using the spiral method on a life that’s not well-rounded. After mowing the big spiral, you can spend so much of your time mowing weird little corners of your life that you’ll go nuts. Trust me.) Mowing a lawn can be monotonous and lonely. That’s why you’ve got to think about it differently, just as—after you become a Christian--you have to think about living your life differently. Non-Christians sit on the tractor mower of life, and mow their own lawns. In contrast, when you mow as a Christian, you mow like Jesus mows. You sit next to Him on the tractor mower throne, evening the blades of grass of your life, where each blade—though common—is divine, and each blade is meaningful both individually and as part of a larger whole, just as each Christian is part of the larger Church. And grass clippings—like our sins—are atoned for and reused as mulch by the Holy Spirit. I don’t want to leave you with the impression that mowing makes you a Christian. Anyone can mow, and everyone lives a life. Mowing a lawn can be like being a Christian. Just as Jesus is “the way and the truth and the life,” mowing can be a way to the truth about your own life as a Christian. But sometimes in life, to mow isn’t necessarily better. Sometimes less is mow. To respond to this message, email Stew at stewka@comcast.net. |
