GOT GUTTATION?

Unless you're a biology whiz, I'll bet you've never heard the term “guttation.” It has nothing to do with cleaning the innards (“gutting”) of a freshly-caught fish, in preparation for cooking it for dinner. Instead, “guttation” is the releasing (the scientific word is “exudation”) of drops of fluid from the tips or edges of leaves of some “vascular plants” and fungi. The “vascular plants” are so called because they have tissues that help a plant transport water, minerals and nutrients—something like the human body. These include species like club-mosses, horsetails, ferns, and some seed plants. If this subject gets you excited, you can learn the basics at this web site: typical vascular plants - Search

This photo doesn't nail it for illustrating “guttation,” as the plant shown didn't necessarily have the “veins” to release all this hydration—just a waxy surface to hold rainwater droplets for a while. But “guttation” is a real thing in the plant world. It's also somewhat of an analogy of a Biblical principle, that giving from overflow reflects God's abundant blessings and generosity.

Probably the best-known Bible verse of abundant giving is this:

“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” (Malachi 3:10)

Others:

“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:38)

“God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9:8)

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us.” (Ephesians 3:20)

My head spun a bit to learn about circulation systems in growing green things. I took biology in high school and college, but the facts I absorbed didn't apply to my vocation. They got buried (like dead plants!) Still, there's a whole world of discovery out there regarding God's immeasurably complex and delightful creation. Like plants that have “transport systems,” akin to the veins and arteries threading through our own bodies.

To bring this to a spiritual close--”Got godly guttation?” Am I responding to God's overflow of blessing, hope, and ability by reaching out to my parched world?

NATURE'S PARADE

Azaleas in my yard

As I write (early May) it's festival time in my valley. Every year, in celebration of spring and my home valley's orchard industry, promoters put on an “Apple Blossom Festival” with teen “royalty” and three parades (classic cars, youth-focused entries, and the grander 100-entry state-wide floats and marching bands). Oh yes, also a food festival which takes over the huge, well-groomed courthouse lawn for a couple weeks. (It recovers, thanks to diligent groundskeepers.) The influx of tourist dollars helps the economy. And yes, it is a sort of “whew” that bids goodbye to winter's chill and hello to spring and summer delights.

I smile to see my son continue some family festival traditions from his childhood. One is buying his family the finger-dusting pastry creation that's basically a glob of dough dribbled into hot oil, then sprinkled with powdered sugar. We know it as “funnel cakes”; it's a variation of the Italian chiacchiere-- messy to eat, but who's to quarrel with an annual tradition​?

It's sensory overload—all the classic cars, floats and their waving community “queens,” bands, drill teams, horses, carnival food, plus a real visiting “carnival” at one end of town with its classic array of noisy thriller rides.

Our local event reminds me of the first parade I remember attending, probably around age five, in the early 1950s. My family at that time lived about an hour's drive from the famed Rose Parade in Pasadena. My dad was able to buy reserved bleacher seats, which enabled us “little ones” to really see the parade going by. I have dim memories of my television Western heroes—Roy and Dale Rogers—waving while riding the same beautiful horses used on their then-black-and-white TV Western adventure show.

Yes, parades are exciting and glamorous. But there's a quiet parade I enjoy even more. It happens every spring in my yard when the grass, shrubs and flowers awaken from their winter naps. Color returns—not just green, but red, orange, pink, yellow. I recall this quote by Thomas Merton (1915-1968), an American Trappist monk, mystic, poet, and author:

Let us come alone to the splendor that is all around us, and see the beauty in ordinary things.

Rhododendron in my yard

Those “ordinary things” include nature's floral beauty....plus things like the morning light, a bird singing a greeting to the sunrise, a shared meal, and quiet connections. It's simpler life without the television blaring or fighting rush-hour traffic on the highway.

It's okay to come together as a community and celebrate. Besides my city's festival, another city about 30 miles west celebrates even more. Leavenworth has a spring “Mai fest” with the ribbon-winding pole dance. Its “Oktoberfest,” besides the ooh-and-ah of mountain landscapes turning yellow and red, amps up the Bavarian music with performances of the long alpenhorns. Its “Winter Karneval” with half a million downtown lights marks a German tradition back to the 13^th century.

Community spirit is a good thing. But beyond such celebrations, we should never lose sight of the ability to celebrate heaven's blessings. All around us are good and celebration-worthy gifts: sky, water, plants and trees, friendships and family--generously God-provided.

SURPRISE!

Who would have expected this—a pert little pansy squeezing out of a cement crack in my home's foundation? Yet there it was, just inches from the porch that leads to my front door. I didn't plant it, though “nature” might have, via last year's “pansy family” just across the walkway in wooden pots. Those former plants, removed after the first frost, had just been replaced with new, just-blooming pansies punched out of a plant nursery's plastic tray “starting bed.” My tiny surprise “volunteer” had to be an offspring of last year's pansies, somehow wind-seeded there and now growing out of the “crack.”

My surprise pansy won't last long. It gets full afternoon sun and will soon wither. But it will help me smile for a week or so as I go in and out of the house. It reminded me of an old saying about resilience: “Bloom where you are planted.” Even though I didn't plant this particular flower, it celebrated its “pansy personality” in the most unlikely way.

“Bloom” can be a verb meaning “to open, blossom, sprout, or mature.” The saying is often a metaphor for people who thrive despite challenging environments. Their lives aren't perfect—maybe because of a family situation or their own problems—but the possibility of shining-forth in the world is still out there. They adapt. Persist. Produce fruit (or blooms) despite life's tough places. Bring special beauty to this often ragged world.

We don't always have a choice in where our lives are “planted.” Family tragedies, poor personal choices, and things beyond our control may plop us in a “life garden” we never expected. But God remains the Master Gardener. His “garden care” for life includes:

*Staying rooted in Him, focused on growing spiritual strength, not on our circumstances.

*Becoming fruitful wherever He plants us. Classic spiritual quote on this: Jeremiah 17:7-8—the passage that starts with God's declaration, “For I know the plans I have for you”--with its analogy of a tree planted by a nourishing source of water.

Before long, the heat coming off the cement sidewalk will “cook “ this pansy to a withered stem. Yet--despite its brief life of blooming in a very unlikely, hostile place—I am grateful. It didn't pout or complain. It just lifted up its happy face to declare in a quiet way: No matter how long I last, despite my negative “planting place,” I will do what I was created to do: glorify God the Creator.

By the way, the saying “Bloom where you are planted” is quite old, attributed to St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), Bishop of Geneva. He's recorded as saying this: “Truly charity has no limit; for the love of God has been poured into our hearts by His Spirit dwelling in each one of us, calling us to a life of devotion and inviting us to bloom in the garden where he has planted and directing us to radiate the beauty and spread the fragrance of His Providence.”

DANDELIONS--AGAIN

Here they are: a dandelion family waiting to be evacuated from a lawn. My fingers and poker-tool are not their only enemy. You learn something every day, and though I don't hang around with folks with vibrant green thumbs (real smart gardeners), I've discovered that I can battle my lawn's dandelions without products bearing skull-and-crossbones warnings on them. The natural remedy: vinegar. More accurately, “horticultural vinegar,” which is 20% acetic acid as compared with the 5% acetic strength in my kitchen-cupboard vinegar. Here's the method: using vinegar to get rid of dandelions in lawn - Search

If only “weedy” human relationships were as easy. Often, no matter what is done to help or placate them, it's never enough. Seems that no matter how much one tries to sow “grace,” “friendship,” or “helpfulness,” with some folks, it doesn't help. Still, as Christ-followers, we're to follow His example in planting “good” even where soil is unfriendly. To bloom where we are planted.

St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), Bishop of Geneva (here's its history: Diocese of Geneva - Wikipedia ) is credited with that saying (“Bloom where you are planted”). In recent decades it enjoyed revival through the broadcasts of Paul Harvey and art of Mary Engelbreit. But sayings with the same thoughts are found throughout scripture. Sometimes that was history, like God's instruction to the Israelites to “settle in” with homes, gardens and families during their exile in Babylon (Jeremiah 29:5-6). The book of Psalms opens with a similar scenario, comparing a righteous person to a tree planted near a water source, growing and yielding fruit.

What if you think your “ground” isn't compatible to blooming? The apostle Paul said to learn contentment in every situation (Philippians 4:11-12). Do the right thing. Don't crumble if things aren't perfect.

Ironically, it's the very robust, prolific dandelion that runs counter to our culture's perception that a lawn must be lovely, velvety, and free of yellow-blooming weeds that “die” to self-propagating fluff-heads. But last I checked, nobody in history has enjoyed a perfect, velvet-green life. Life comes with times of storms, drought, cutting-down and unwelcome weeds (hardship, difficult relationships). But still, we are to bloom. As one example, I think of Joni Eareckson Tada. She could have turned her broken neck and invalid bed into grump's coffin. But she didn't. She turned paralysis into praise. Weeds into wisdom. 

And remember, dandelions can be pretty flowers for a little child to pick for Mommy. They don't prick like thorny roses, and their flying offspring or the  left-behind weed root can faithfully regrow another sunny bloom. Maybe—like life's negative relationships and difficult times—they aren't what we planted. But we can still shine forth—with the hope rooted in our faith in a generous, all-knowing God.....who deemed a lowly plant worthy of a bright and cheery color.

THIS MERRY MONTH OF MAY....

Right on schedule, the Yellow Ones have returned. From a grass-level “tutu” of broad leaves, a short stem lifts up its yellow crown. Dandelions. Yard weeds, but merry and lovely in their own way. Yes, I have a few yellow daffodils blooming, too, but the hearty dandelions have also awakened. I'm not into harvesting the leaves for a back-to-nature salad, so off to the garbage they go.

My brain makes some unlikely connections when I'm out doing yard-work (like plucking weeds). That day I found myself silently rehearsing an old hymn that starts with “May”--not the month-meaning, but the “permissive” meaning.

May the mind of Christ, my Savior,/Live in me from day to day,/By His love and pow'r controlling/All I do and say.

I knew this hymn, based on Philippians 2:5-8,  was an “oldie-but-goody,” but was surprised to know it was written sometime before 1912. The English author, Kate Barclay Wilkinson (1859-1928), wasn't a well-known hymnist, but an unheralded member of the Church of England. Influenced by the evangelical Keswick Convention Movement, she'd gotten involved in a mission that reached out to needy girls and young women living at St. Leonard's-on-Sea (about 65 miles from London). 

The verse that influenced her hymn was likely Philippians 2:5: “Have this mind in you which was also in Christ Jesus....” This scripture section highlights the spiritual walk of knowing Christ as Savior, dwelling richly in God's Word, claiming the Father's peace, expressing Jesus' love, faithfully running the “spiritual race,” and seeking to express the beauty of Christ in such a way that people are drawn to Him. In short, being rooted in Christ, in order to bring others to Him. As such—especially the hymn's verse about “running the race” for the Lord--it echoed Philippians 2:12-13 about working out one's salvation as God working in us.

A side note: the man who added the tune to her poem, A. Cyril Barham-Gould, was a Church of England clergyman whose first curate (position) was at All Souls Church in Langham Place. That parish became famous in our times as a church pastored by well-known evangelical leader and author John Stott (1921-2011), whom I once had the privilege of hearing in person.

I'm grateful for hymns like this one, and the preaching/writing ministry of godly men like Stott, as I seek (quoting her hymn) to “run the race before me, strong and brave to face the foe, looking only unto Jesus as I onward go.” The hymn may not “pop up” (like my springtime dandelions) in the “worship choices” of contemporary-culture churches. But maybe it should....

This link will help you recall its words and tune: May The Mind Of Christ My Saviour

THANKS--FOR THE THORNS?

Got thorns in your life? Like sorrow? Financial troubles? Job challenges (or challenge of unemployment)? Family conflict? People in general who are hard to get along with? Physical or mental health challenges? Whoever said “life is not a bed of roses” must have endured life's stabs and pricks from difficult experiences or people. Some have even worked their “thorn wounds” into books with that saying in the title. I haven't seen one (yet) titled, “Life is a bed of rose petals.” The thorns come with the petals.

Sometimes life seems too full of emotional and physical “jabs.” Some years ago someone jabbed me with negative accusations and nicknames in person, by phone, and by notes and E-mails. The verbal abuse hurt...for a long time. God and I had lots of conversations about forgiving that person.

Here's the truth: thorns are part of living in a fallen world. Roses are lovely to see and smell, but their stems have this “fallen accessory,” called thorns. But be thankful for the thorns? When you live with pain or an incurable physical problem? When you deal with human brokenness (your own or others')?

Maybe instead of complaining about our own “thorn”--whether physical, mental, or spiritual—we need to look around to see how others successfully deal with theirs. I'm regularly reminded of the outlook by a Scotsman named George Matheson (1842-1906). He began going blind at age 17 while studying for the ministry, and a few years later was completely without sight. He loved a woman—and she him—until blindness began. Unable to cope, she broke the engagement. He never married, but with others' help (including a sister who became his “eyes” for reading and writing) he went on to become a respected and beloved minister.

Every time I read this quote from him, I am moved:

My God, I have never thanked You for my thorn. I have thanked You a thousand times for my rose, but not once for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensated for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory. Teach me the value of my thorn.

There's a powerful word for such an attitude: surrender. None of us will have a perfect life. “The perfect life” ended in Eden. But in this fallen, wounded world, we can surrender our broken dreams and hurts to God, remembering He is the master “arranger” of all the thorny stems of our lives. And what He can bring out of the pricks and wounds of life's hard places—when lived-out with gratitude and trust—what can become His showcase to the world.

Yes, His beautiful, artfully arranged, life-bouquet.

UNDERCOVER WORK

 “Oh, rats!” In my childhood, anything remotely sounding like a curse abusing God's name was thoroughly discouraged. I think we got away with “Fiddlesticks” (even though it denigrated my future music passion), “Bummer!” or “Rats!” All of which I could have recalled (though refrained from reviving) for a recent household emergency—with the exception of the last. Because watching television isn't my “thing,” my evenings are quiet, often spent reading. So when I heard thumps and bumps and clattering in the ceiling—and there was no chance of the fabled Santa Claus and his four-footed flying helpers being the reason—I knew I had a problem.

Rats roam the neighborhood, probably still insulted that their wonderful Rat City (huge vacant lot behind the fences of homes on my street) was disturbed and banned when developers put up a huge neighborhood of townhouses on the site. Do rats have scouting parties that work in the dark? And how would they get in my attic to have nighttime square-dancing contests that scared me spit-less (more or less)?

Sharing my plight with some friends, we decided the rats had looked for a back door to success—in my case, a tiny chewed-away part of the wood frame of the screened “plug” to my foundation well access. Once under the house, party time! And somehow, the party moved upstairs through walls to my attic. A caring friend came over with eradication supplies (spell that e-RAT-ication) and helped me with the dastardly task. Another brought a bent piece of metal to cover the tiny suspected-chewed entry of the screen's wooden frame. A couple weeks later, the unwelcome clatter faded. I heard a tiny ceiling chunk-e-dunk a couple nights ago, but not the full-fledged square-dancing-romps of previous weeks.

As I considered the tiny access making way for a vermin celebration, I thought of how sin can be just as sneaky. Give sin an inch, and it chews away at a one's character:

Do not participate in the unfruitful deeds of darkness, but instead even expose them. (Ephesians 5:11)

Do not be bound together with unbelievers; for what partnership have righteousness and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness? (2 Corinthians 6:14)

This is the message we have heard from Him and announced to you, that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. (1 John 1:5-6)

Disclaimer: I'm not pointing any fingers in writing about this problem. Any Christian faces the threat of spiritual “rats”: “Do not be deceived: bad company corrupts good character” (1 Corinthians 15:33). We don't have to turn up at unsavory places in person. Pushing the “on” button on a computer can take someone to virtual bad places as well. The more someone spends time in such negative places, the more it can erode one's character.

Oddly, mice and rats have been gentrified (made “normal”) through the pens and brushes of cartoonists. Remember the mice who helped Cinderella get ready for her life-changing ball? Or the comic critters with big ears, long tails and vicious dental work who starred in Disney's 2007 cartoon “Ratatouille”? Sorry, not the real world. My unwelcome visitors didn't have names, except maybe “Ugh.” Eradication, not entertaining them, was my aim. Hmm, sounds like spiritual warfare for believers, too....