Fearless Faith

Ask any gardener this time of year what the signature bloom in their garden is in the moment and you will likely receive praises for the iris family; ruffled, plain, double, domestic, bearded, multi-colored, rustic, mysterious, bright, solitary and altogether amazing! Can one word give them justice? Let’s try ‘fantabulous!’ Each has a pedigree that is noted when purchased, then quickly forgotten in lieu of common designations to our liking, ones tied to family members or friends that gifted the original plant, or simply because we are partial to one style and color or another. Regardless, they are inarguably grand marshals of the parade heralding spring.

Ask further and you might be surprised to encounter self-effacing responses, ones that shift credit to the soil, the seed company, weather conditions or pure luck. Successful gardeners already have a firm grasp on the notion of God’s incomparable palate of colors when it comes to garden plants, flowered or otherwise. It comes part and parcel with working the soil while pondering the miracles of creation. Of all the influential classes I have taken over decades, one continues to feed my imagination. A course on plant anatomy and development humbled my understanding of the world as well as my back yard. Genetics and cell differentiation, transpiration and reproduction changed how I saw and responded to each and every season, the smallest components of change often shaping the largest resulting spectacles.

The signature blooms in every garden, it turns out, are us. Unique, varied, different, hard to figure and for the most part thrilling to know. Each bloom is susceptible to the same weather vagaries as other plants — heat, frost, drought, wind, hail — but some are hardier than others, something that gives them a leg up on the survivability scale. Would we wish for Christians and non-Christians alike to be more hardy and durable? Can an alternate case be made for the most tender blooms among us? One can hope. For kindness, gentility, and humbleness are markers of civilized societies and grateful hearts. It seems so simple until one delves deeper into the mystery of the Divine and we walk smack dab into the unexpected, a garden of beauty that takes your breath away. How can we explain the intricacies of God when we cannot fathom in the least how to make an iris? And that barely grazes the surface.

Jesus was no show boater according to Henri Nouwen. Jesus did not claim to represent the origin of such miracles as the iris. He did, however, remind us that “Jesus refused to be a stunt man. He did not come to walk on hot coals, swallow fire, or put his hand into the lion’s mouth to demonstrate that he had something worthwhile to say.” (In the Name of Jesus, 1989) Yet, there he was, an iris among new growth and promises unfolding. What he continues to demonstrate is that there are no favorites, no teacher’s pets, no head of the line, or master of all.

Instead, we find possibility and God’s mystical transcendent presence through Christ. We all know the iris families, but it could take a lifetime to catalog them all. Isn’t it fun, however, to get a start? Good things are happening in the garden!