Remembering

The only reason it makes sense for The Village Church to close is to send us [especially those of us who were members at the end] out with great explosive force. This is like the violent seed dispersal employed by some tree species. Especially having visited a few churches now since our last service, I see that we were sort of hoarding some of the choicest specimens, and now God wants to scatter us all out into the forest … ironically in this case, the forest is New York City and environs. So, we will find ourselves landing in the strange places in which God wants us to grow: some in urban gardens, others crowded in around street-side plantings, and some of us into cracks in the pavement. But, as surely as we are sent out, we will find ourselves in fertile notches, niches, and nooks that are otherwise barren, or which need shade, or which will offer nutrients to our roots that hitherto have not been supplied.

I am very sad writing this, so perhaps my tears will serve to water tender roots. And broken soil of the heart yields some of God’s most plentiful harvest. May choice fruits be shared abroad.