I believe in the Resurrection (cont'd)

So, those of you who know me well know that I am not particularly gifted in horticulture. In fact, I tend to have a unique ability to kill plants quickly and relatively painlessly (at least for me; I have no idea what plant death feels like for the plant).

But, like the good farmers daughter that I am, I continue to try to grow things.

And this summer, that project has actually worked fairly well. I have a little back-porch garden, consisting of cayenne peppers, tomatoes, chamomile, lavender, parsley, and a few flowers. And surprise of all surprises, they have both survived and thrived. Apparently remembering to water things does wonders. Who knew?

At any rate, when I arrived back from my most recent three week travel stint, I discovered that these miracle plants (with the exception of the plant-that-never-dies) were pretty much done-in. (My roommates share my watering forgetfulness.) And so at the moment, I am in the process of pruning, watering, fertilizing, and attempting to salvage any whisper of life, prospects of which look pretty slim.

But as I was pruning my tomato plants today, cutting off dead leaves and branches, I was struck by the metaphor for us as well:

In order to bring new life to us sometimes Jesus has to cut off a lot of the dead stuff, even though we cling to it. In order to call out life, to restore to life, the grave clothes have got to go.

Yet, we cling to remnants of the old self, our grave clothes, because they make us feel less naked, more whole, and like there's "more there." They are stinky, nasty, dead, rotten, but oh they are comfortable. They hinder and prevent true growth, sucking our energy and our focus from real life. In the same way that dead branches on my tomato plants suck energy away from the life of the plant, so too our "grave-clothes" and places of death that we hold on to hinder us from experiencing real life.

Perhaps they are an unhealthy relationship, perhaps that's your sense of pride or the safety of fear (this is a big one for me); perhaps that's your shame at past failures or sense of perfectionism that will not let you accept grace; maybe that's any number of addictive defense mechanisms (pornography, alcohol, unhealthy obsession with body image, gossip, drugs, an unhealthy need to be needed); perhaps it's lies that you believe about yourself, or positions of comfort that you know God is calling you out of... I don't know what your grave-clothes are, but I do know this:

If we stay in the grave clothes, we will never fully experience the power of the resurrection.

I don't hold much hope for the restoration of life to my tomato plants: as aforementioned, I do not have a green thumb, nor the power of restoration. But I do hold a lot of hope for the restoration of life for YOU and for ME, that comes from cutting off the grave clothes.

The power of the resurrection changes everything.

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go." [john 11:43-44]