Delight

Luke 12:32-40

As I’ve shared with some of you over the past few months, I am trying my hand at gardening. I know that my efforts are quaint; a small four by four raised bed in my backyard has nothing on the beautiful farms and gardens so many of you keep. My little garden does not produce the kind of abundance that requires a canner or a dehydrator or even a basket to harvest. Nothing I’ve grown has produced a fruit larger than the palm of my hand. But I have rarely experienced the kind of joy that comes from spotting the first fruit, or from plucking the first ripened tomato. I had one tomato plant that produced exactly one tomato, smaller than a golf ball, and I promise you I presented that tomato to Ben like I had won the blue ribbon at the state fair. The delight I feel when I go out every morning and note the miniscule progress of the tomatoes, or when I see a bee visiting the blooms on my cucumber plant, is overwhelming, childlike. My garden holds my attention every morning as I inspect for signs of pests or illness, as I notice the minute changes in size and color of flowers and fruit, waiting with anticipation for the harvest. Nevermind that my harvest will be modest, more a hobby than a way to feed my family. The garden exists, and that brings me joy. It also makes me think about what God is like.

We’ll generously call me an amateur gardener, someone who still has so much to learn, someone who tires, who gets bored, who is selfish and easily distracted by other things- If I can feel this way about my garden, how much more must God feel when looking over all of creation? If I with my poor vision and mortal memory can notice the tiny changes as a tomato grows on the vine- how much does God see the tiny changes in our hearts as we grow day by day in stature and in faith? If I with my measly harvest of comically small cucumbers and peppers can find a way to use them to feed others- what must the heavenly banquet look like?

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus assures his disciples that they need not be afraid, that it is God’s good pleasure to give them the kingdom. It is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. In some versions, this has been translated “God delights in giving you the kingdom.” What a beautiful, awe-inspiring statement. My siblings in Christ, God delights in you. We spend so much time wondering and worrying about what God asks of us, what God is calling us into, that we forget that our mere existence brings a smile to the face of the God who created us and calls us by name. God looks at us with joy and wonder and smiles at our blunders with the same ache that a parent experiences when their little one stumbles through their first steps, wobbles through their first bike ride, staggers through their first job or their first year of college or their first marriage. God the vinegrower notices our growth and celebrates our blossoming and delights in guiding us up the trellis of faith. God throws on an apron and creates a filling feast as soon as we open the door to him, even when the reunion happens in the middle of the dark night. God is pleased by our mere existence, delighted to be in relationship with us. God has joyfully chosen to include us in the story of salvation, in the beauty of creation and co-creation and recreation.

It is from this place of God’s own joy that we hear the call of Jesus to stay ready, to anticipate the coming of the Son of Man at the unexpected hour. Jesus calls us to be dressed for action, to keep our lamps lit and our eyes peeled. In an anxiety-ridden world, this can sound a lot like hypervigilance and fear. But remembering God’s delight in us, might it just be Jesus asking us to wait up for him? To keep the porch light on? To make sure the doors of our hearts and minds are unlocked and ready to open up when God comes knocking? After all, if we assume that Jesus is talking about himself in the parable, he’s going to come home and whip up a meal and serve it himself. We are anticipating a feast, a reunion with a beloved and long awaited Lord. Our anticipation and readiness are meant to feel like the wee hours of Christmas morning as a child, or the final days of awaiting the welcome of a new grandchild, or the watching and waiting of a gardener for the first signs of spring. May God grant us the eyes and hearts to delight in one another and in creation, keeping ready to notice with wonder when the kingdom of heaven breaks through. Our God delights in us. May we live our lives accordingly.