I’ve think I’ve been long overdue for the Saturday we enjoyed this weekend. No computer, no writing, no deadlines (well, they’re there, I just didn’t pay them any mind…), no blog. Instead, I did yard work from 8:30 am until almost 3:00 in the afternoon, then came into the house and cleaned the refrigerator.

When I say “cleaned the refrigerator” I mean, 1) remove all the food; 2) throw away most of the food; 3) remove all the shelving and the drawers; 4) clean everything until it looks like new; 5) reassemble the refrigerator; 6) put back what remains of the food; 7) wonder how it could possibly have taken two hours to clean the refrigerator!

It was a good day. Sometimes the simple act of doing mundane, necessary tasks is quite restorative, both creatively and spiritually.

And, for the first time in a long time, Rebekah and I feel pretty good about the state of the garden. Not the grass, we have no interest in playing “pamper the grass”, and we’re not about to spend beaucoodles of cash to put down a bunch of sod. But the rest of it, the beds and the trees and the flowers, have responded well to the 17 or so inches of rain we’ve had over the past two months.

I forget, once in a while, that good writing requires a peaceful mind and a refreshed spirit. Often the best thing I can do is to tend to the environment where I work.

In my third book – The Unmaking of a Part-Time Christian – I refer to the life-charged life as something that helps us to move forward… back to the Garden. The garden, of course, was where Adam and Eve lived in an active, natural relationship with God. God would walk with them “in the cool of the evening” and that was the blessed event they removed themselves from as soon as they first messed up.

The balance of the biblical narrative is the story of what happens when people separate themselves from such a nurturing, encouraging situation… and also the lengths to which God has gone to offer the possibility of redemption. It’s not until the end of the book of Revelation that the restoration is complete. Listen to these wonderful garden words:

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever – Revelation 22:1-5

It’s a great image for the Labor Day weekend. The river of the water of life. Trees standing by the water. Leaves for the healing of the nations.

We are so rich, Rebekah and I. We drink from the river of the water of life. We have so much stuff we can’t begin to count it all, and most of it is in the form of wealth the economists can’t calibrate and riches the IRS can’t tax.

I’ve been thinking about what Jesus said to his friends when they came back with some lunch the Master had been talking with the Woman at the Well (John 4). He’d been telling her about Living Water. Now the disciples wanted him to eat. Listen to the dialog:

His disciples urged him, “Rabbi, eat something.”

But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you know nothing about.”

Then his disciples said to each other, “Could someone have brought him food?”

“Err…? Did Jesus already get lunch?”

It’s a different standard. A different measure. You can’t count Jesus wealth the same way.

“As it is,” Jesus repeated time and again to anyone who would listen, “my kingdom is not of this world….”