|My backyard on a good day with boosted saturation|
One of my favorite chores, potentially the only chore I could come close to saying I enjoy, is cutting the grass. I don't so much care for the weed whacking part afterward, but I like it to look neat and tidy to a degree. My insanity stretches only so far. I rarely edge and I'm not the guy who buys the bags of super grass seed or the 'winter rye' like my Dad spreads every fall to ensure a green winter plot, but I do employ a lawn service to show up a few times a year and spread their toxic chemicals around my yard, messing up my perfectly parallel lines from my last mowing.
The thing is, I still have patchy spots where no grass grows and that pesky crabgrass sprouts up in far too many places. In my weaker moments, I want to take a picture of my sub-par yard, send it to the company I enlist and ask if they'd be willing to post my picture on their homepage. Of course they wouldn't. Then I imagine they would ask if I'd care to see what my lawn would look like without their help!
As I cut my grass yesterday, I thought of the care my spiritual life needs. At times I become satisfied with a decent looking spiritual life, one that looks good from a distance, one that I care for once a week, one that occasionally is bolstered by professionals, perhaps at a spiritual retreat or conference. But I'm not satisfied with that. I want more, more of Jesus.
My yard needs some TLC (tender loving care: not the artist or the channel), it needs a greater investment of time and attention if it's to be full and lush and vibrant, devoid of weeds or dead spots. My spiritual life craves the same.