Sowing Seeds

When we bought our house 17 years ago, the city required the previous homeowners to repair the sidewalk before the sale could be completed. The city conveniently provided a contractor to do the work, and promptly charged the previous homeowners $600.

The concrete work was done marvelously. We’re still today enjoying those fresh sections of sidewalk. The lawn repair work, however, is another story. The contractor replaced the good topsoil that had been in the parkway between the sidewalk and the road with some sandy and rocky mess that it would be generous to call dirt. They then threw down a bit of grass seed and left.

The grass they planted barely came up, and what did come up was half weeds. And so began what is now lovingly referred to in our house as “Dad’s semiannual attempt to grow grass.”

Every spring and every fall since we bought the house in 2003, I’ve planted grass in the parkway between the sidewalk and the driveway. Some years I try amending the soil with some peat moss or Moo Poo compost. Others I add some straw as a mulch or some seed-starter fertilizer pellets. I’ve tried starting in early-September some years and mid-October other years. Sometimes in the spring as soon as the snow is gone and other times not until I’ve mowed the lawn a few times. And then I water—every day, 2-3 times a day, I stand out there with a hose and I water the new grass, willing it to grow.

Each year it’s the same story. It starts out strong. I can see a hint of green even before I see any actually blades of grass starting to grow. My heart is full of hope—maybe this is the year the grass actually grows. It seems to be doing well…and then July hits. And the full sun beats down on our yard. And perhaps we go on vacation or I lose motivation and forget to water for a day or two. And the new grass shrivels up in the heat because it isn’t established enough yet to withstand drought, and before I know it, there’s a bare patch in our front yard once again and the crabgrass moves in and takes over.

This past year I thought I finally had it. My 34^th attempt, if I’m counting correctly. The pandemic meant we were home more. I could give it more attention. The grass was even growing to the point where I actually mowed it once or twice…and then DTE came to replace our gas pipeline. And dug up our front yard. And threw down some crummy replacement dirt. And tossed some grass seed where the lawn used to be…and I was back to square 1.

This fall, as I’ve been out there with my hose in hand, trying to repair the damage DTE did when they replaced the gas pipeline, I’ve been thinking about how planting the grass in our front yard is a bit like justice work. As Christians, we strive to bring shalom to our world. To restore broken relationships, to fix the effects of sin as best we can, to bring a glimpse of what life in the Kingdom of God can and one day will be.

It can be hard and thankless work. And it can feel like we’re never making any progress. And sometimes when it feels like we’ve had a breakthrough, we turn around for a moment and suddenly things are worse than they’ve ever been before. Or there’s more resistance than we’d experienced before. Or we realize what we’ve been trying all this time is actually making things worse rather than better. Or some entirely new injustice comes along, and we don’t have time to catch our breaths but must redouble our efforts to stand alongside those who are oppressed and stand up for change.

It can be disheartening. We might be tempted to give up. To focus solely on our own lives and our own relationship with Jesus.

But we’re never called to finish the work that’s before us. We’re not expected to make the world a perfect place. That’s something God will do at the end of time when Jesus returns and makes all things new. Until that day, we’re called to not grow weary or lose heart. We’re called to scatter the seed of the gospel promiscuously. We’re called to love extravagantly.

Part of that is justice work. And at times it may feel like we’re out there doing the same things over and over again and never making much progress—especially this summer as protests continued for months in cities across the United States and racial issues we had hoped had been solved long, long ago arose again to remind us that much work remains to be done. But justice work is important work. Work that orients ourselves toward God’s kingdom, and work that shows the world how things might one day be.

Sometimes my children ask me why I bother. Why do I stand out there every spring and every fall, watering the ground, trying to get grass to grow? The answer is simple. In my mind I have a vision—a vision of lush, green grass and what one day might be. And I’ll keep trying to get there—no matter how difficult or frustrating it is along the way. 

The same is true of justice work and the vision of a world made new.