The Means Are the Ends

Every now and then God shows me through a circumstance that He cares about even the littlest things that worry me. But if we are here with the single purpose of knowing Him, then why do we even question if our cares are too small or if our actions are insignificant? God is a God of relationships, which means He cares about us. Yet it is not the car accident or the disappointment or the test grades that He cares about, so much as it is the way that we handle those things that come our way.

Sometimes we only focus on the end goal of things. We want our questions to be answered. We want our plans to succeed. We want to know where we'll be next year or the year after. We look ahead to the results and forget the importance of the process.

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I remember when I was a kid and my dad and I were playing through Donkey Kong Country (a process we go through almost every year). It's the Super-Nintendo one where one person can play Donkey and the other Diddy (the lesser-known monkey with a red shirt and a ball-cap). If one character dies, then the other player takes over. I am always Diddy and my dad is always Donkey. One day, we reached a particularly difficult level where orangutans were throwing barrels at us and causing all kinds of havoc. We had to go to sleep defeated that night, and we decided we would beat it the following night when my dad came home from work. The next day, while my dad was gone, I turned on the game and played both Diddy and Donkey. I played through that level again and again and again. Eventually, I beat the level and the primates did a happy dance. I was so proud. I couldn’t wait to tell my dad. When he came home, I told him I had been playing all day and that I had moved us on to the next level. 
 

But his reaction wasn’t what I had expected. He frowned and said, “I was looking forward to playing that with you.”

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It was then that I realized that the means were actually the ends. In other words, we weren’t playing the game to win. We weren’t pushing buttons to advance to the next level and the next level. We were playing the game in order to be together. This is how I see my relationship with God.

Oswald Chambers puts it this way: "God is not working toward a particular finish--His purpose is the process itself...His purpose is for this very minute, not sometime in the future. We have nothing to do with what will follow our obedience, and we are wrong to concern ourselves with it. What people call preparation, God sees as the goal itself...If we realize that moment-by-moment obedience is the goal, then each moment as it comes is precious."

Everything we experience is an opportunity to be in relationship with our Creator right now.

The means are the ends. God cares about every little thing because every little thing is about one big thing--living in relationship with Him.

Don't get ahead of God. He's waiting for you right where you are.

Gardening Frustrations and Life Metaphors

Audrey Hepburn once said that to plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow. This is true. There is so much hope that precedes the planting of a seed. But those hopes don’t always come true. You haul wheel-barrows full of dirt, shovel it into beds, and carefully plant the seeds, soaking them in water and sunlight. You watch as they curl up from the earth like little miracles, certain their future is promising. I swear my beans grew faster than Jack’s, but I wasn’t worried about any real giants—only metaphorical ones (i.e weeds and deer).

I have officially declared war on all deer to ever cross the fence-line of my yard, except for the ones that I actually see. (They’re so cute, and, after all, their home was destroyed when new houses were built behind our land.) The deer are seeking revenge and they know how much I love my bean plants. I only have a few left, plus a couple rows of corn, some winter squash, one half-eaten tomato plant, a grape vine, and a lot of Bermuda grass, which I have also declared war upon. It’s not even supposed to be in America.
 

As you can tell, I am very discouraged. I bought a lot of seeds this year, and I don’t want to plant them all because I know what will happen to them if I do. But enough with the frustrations.

Let me tell you about something called the volunteer plant. Sometimes, if you don’t clear out your garden before your plants go to seed, your plants actually sow seeds that won’t come up until the next year. I was feeling discouraged about my garden today, when I found two pink chive flowers that resemble the resting place of a certain Whoville. Just next to these was a flowering borage, with star-like blue flowers. A little further off was a patch of cilantro, lemon balm, and thyme. Later, I realized that the mint seeds I had given up on forever ago had actually grown and were looking very healthy.

 

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I want to have a conclusion to this that includes a big, bold statement about life. This story is all true, of course, but it is also a metaphor, just like most life experiences can become metaphors if we reflect on them in a certain way. If I just said what all this meant, it would be too much like an allegory, so, since I hate allegories, I’ll leave it up to your imagination. I’ll just say one thing. Be thankful for the surprises in life—the lessons, the metaphors, and the fact that the only results worth recording involve the way we grow through our experiences.