On to-do lists, weeding, and white space (And why I'm not planting corn.)

It’s a miracle.

For the first time in … oh, probably six years, I accomplished every single thing on my to-do list today.

Now, if you lean in real close, I’ll tell you the secret:

A really short to-do list. 

(I know. Brilliant. I should write a book, right?)

Another recent divine unit-lesson from my Heavenly Father has been the issue of Focus.  Last month I read the book, One Big Thing (Thank you, Paul!), and was impressed by this: The reason many of us feel discouraged, confused, overwhelmed, and aimless, is that we’re simply trying to do too many things instead of focusing on doing a few things well. (The right things well!)

Yup.

Focus.

This proves true even in small, insignificant daily decisions:

Last week the kids and I were cleaning up the yard, weeding, and tidying up after having company over. I found a bag of seeds, leftover from our garden last year. There were corn, beans, some peppers, lettuce. I knew this was probably the last year we could use the seeds, and mindlessly turned over the package to inspect planting times, etc. Before I knew it I was scoping out garden-bed potentials, mentally measuring spaces, making notes to self to buy more potting soil. Then all of a sudden I came to my senses:

Why the heck am I planting corn???

I replied to myself: “Because otherwise the seeds will be no good! And I don’t want to waste them. And it will be a good learning experience for the kids. And we’ll save money on corn. And … and … and …”

Then I said to myself: “UM… since when it throwing away $.99 of seeds in order to SAVE three hours worth of a work classify as “waste”? You have a to-do list as long as your arm and you’re concerned about throwing away a half-used packet of corn kernels?”

“Girl, FOCUS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!”

I wonder if I ever give God a migraine with all my ridiculousness.

Sometimes, this call to focus means simply writing fewer items (the REALLY important ones) on my to-do list. Sometimes, this call means writing down all the things I’m already doing, and ruthlessly pulling a few out.

It seems I must do this every year, because last year I was doing this:

Last year, our ugly rental house had a lively patch of landscape adorning the front. There were lilacs, rhododendrons, irises, and a dozen other luscious green things which I cannot name. The whole huge patch was full of green and every time I arrived home I smiled–it just looked so full and flourishing and healthy!

But then one day I looked a little closer. 

The kids and I had been outside playing in the dirt. It was the perfect opportunity to admire the flourishing foliage of the front yard so I eased down into the grass and looked a little closer at the plants.

I blinked my eyes. Had I really never noticed? 

It was weeds.

All weeds. 

Sure, a few legitimate shoots were desperately poking their heads above the cacophony of noxious plants, but the rest–by far the majority–were nothing more than enthusiastic weeds.

Really?

My heart sank as I realized that all this time what I’d thought was beautiful, lush, healthy growth was really nothing more than a creeping commotion of impostors. And so wildly had all this commotion grown that the entire patch of landscape was literally overrun with green nets of tangled arms. This was no neat and tidy weeding job. There was nothing to do but set to work with trowel and dig out huge patch after huge patch of weed-infested earth.

After spending all afternoon weeding, I stepped back and surveyed my work. Most of the weeds were gone, it was true, but sadly the result was … ugly.

True, the real flowers were cleared away and no longer suffocated by weeds.But now the space looked sparse, empty even. The patches of bare dirt made the whole space look awkward and blotchy.

Honestly, it looked better when the weeds were there. 

I knelt back down in the dirt, sunk my trowel back in to unearth one last weed.

And I paused just long enough to listen:

This is what the church must do. 

Not my church, or your church–the church. That is, us. 

That is, me.

Bare dirt looks terrible. Almost as bad as blank space. Or empty seats. Or quiet calendars. (Or pathetically short to-do lists!) We must FILL. Must fill the space. Must fill the calendar. Must fill the seats at all cost. But I wonder, How much of that filling is fruit … and how much is a commotion of weeds? 

Commotion. 

I know this word is for me, but perhaps some piece of it can apply to you as well? The truth is that only true fruit will last. Only the real stuff. The legitimate plants. The weeds will be burned up. Gone. But in the meantime, sometimes we are content with our landscape full, flourishing, abounding. But what if it’s abounding with weeds?

Weeds: Any activity less than the pure, authentic, Spirit-led work of God. Any daily busyness other than the good, right, perfect will of God. 

What I was amazed by was how pretty some of the weeds were. I was tempted to let them grow until I googled them and saw how noxious they are. So too, some of our “ministry” can look so pretty, can seem so good, but I wonder–is it merely commotion? Does it choke out the real fruit? Is it simply something to fill the space because bare dirt just looks so ugly?

Plain soil isn’t beautiful.  Is it?

Plain soil is beautiful to a Gardener who loves to grow remarkable fruit. Plain, rich soil is exactly what our Father wants. Days with some white-space, some margin, are exactly what He wants.

His hands are full of seed and He is ready to plant.

Will He find any space to plant?

Is there any bare space in our lives for Him to plant His good fruit?

Or have we allowed the commotion of weeds to fill the space, because it looks better?

Because it makes us feel better about ourselves.

Ugh, these seeds are getting poked down deep in my heart.

Poked down so deep it hurts just a bit.

How is your soil? Is it full of commotion? Overrun with weeds and activity? Is there any bare soil, just a spot, where the Gardener can plant his perfect fruit to glorify His name?

Perhaps some ruthless weeding is in order today? Or at least a shorter to-do list, making white space for whatever He might want to add?

Me too. Both.

Thanks for reading.