Tend, Feed, Weed
[They said to Jesus,] “Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness.” – John 6:31 (NRSV)
Some gardeners just can’t help themselves. We plant more than we can weed, feed, or even remember. I’m not always that reckless, but I do remind myself that I’m only a little distant from turning tough, tasteless, and—yes—overcooked.
As a pastor, my job description boils down to three verbs: tend, feed, weed. Trouble is, I adore planting and despise weeding. I relish dreaming up ministries and cringe at maintaining them. My congregation? Twenty-seven committees, give or take a subcommittee, plus a small army of projects. Add deferred maintenance on a chronically cranky building, a search for our COVID absentees, and that bottomless lost-and-found bin—water bottles, orphaned books, and the eternal Kleenex box—and you get the picture.
Am I alone? When we resist overdoing and practice Hazel Henderson’s “whole-cost accounting,” we run head-first into humility. Gardens tell the truth: plants need time, space, and consistent care. People do, too. Consider the saints who wash the dishes after the feast; their quiet labor clears the counter so the next meal can even begin.
Tend, feed, weed, repeat.
Maybe the best title for both gardener and pastor is Prehab Specialist—the rehab you do before you break your wrist, the balance exercises you do before, not after, you fall. Think of every project as a life cycle: conception (all spark), development (patient waiting), birthing (holy chaos), tending (holy mess), educating, shaping and turning the vessel—plus the lifelong dance of yes and no.
Manna is my mantra: just enough for today, again tomorrow.
Prayer
Prehab my plants and me, O God. Grant us grace to rise and fall, to start and finish, to tend and to weed—time after time, in your good time.
About the AuthorDonna Schaper is an interim Pastor at the United Church of Gainesville, Florida, and author, most recently of Remove the Pews—first from your theology, then from your building.