From the Garden

Written by Anthony Douglas on 24 November 2018.

WeedsThough some members of my family will find that it exceeds their ability to imagine, I quite like weeding. It’s true, I don’t weed as much as I might, but it’s not from dislike of the task. It’s therapeutic, I think, in fact.

Many of the different tasks and responsibilities that we have are ongoing. We don’t get to take a breather from breathing. And as soon as you finish the washing up, you find the one item you missed seeing before you let the water out. Chores have a way of recurring with great regularity.

That’s why I like weeding. Once you take the weeds out, you’re left with a clean garden bed, or lawn that is composed only of grass. It’s a job that you can finish. Or at least it appears that way for a few days, until you see the weeds shamelessly growing back.

They always do. They’re a small but ever-present reminder that we live in a fallen world, where things don’t work the way they’re meant to. And they do their job well, mutely testifying to our sheer inability to fix even the smallest part of that curse we brought upon ourselves.

Right there in my garden is the proof that I can’t get back to the garden of Eden. Not with prodigious amounts of manual labour. Not with the best of modern technology. Not with the support of even the most dedicated weed-pullers the world has ever seen.

On our own, we’re stuck. But one day, in a garden, a man spoke to a woman. The first man stayed silent while the serpent did his work, but this man spoke, and revealed the fact of his resurrection. His father, the Gardener, was making all things new again, at last!

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