Sunday, October 3, 2010

The Raspberry Blog, Number Two

October 3, 2010

Good evening, friends,

In last week's blog I introduced you to a wild mountain raspberry that made me think. This week I have done some more thinking about that persistent raspberry, and have decided to use "The Raspberry Blog, Number Two," as a title for this week's time together.

I realize there is risk in this. I know that readers who were not overly fond of last week's raspberry may not be up for a second helping. Nevertheless, I want to give this cheeky little raspberry a second look.

Initially, sleepy as I was, I believe my thinking was correct--it is indeed the work of both the mountains and the raspberry to be about their God assigned tasks of being mountains and being a raspberry in ways that image God.

But what does that nifty little theological phrase mean in everyday terms?

Image God by being a perfect mountain? Being a perfect raspberry? But who could define "perfect" mountain or "perfect" raspberry if that were the case? And how could we know that the "perfectness" of God was God's point of existence for the mountain or the raspberry? After all, there are other aspects about God in addition to His perfectness that merit knowing. I quickly abandoned the "be perfect" approach to the mountain/raspberry matter; nothing of practical value appeared to lie down that path.

However, as I revisited in my mind God's teaching moment with me there on the mountain, I glimpsed something that was practical indeed.

When you remember where it was, this raspberry, clinging to the edge of a mountain road in Wyoming in late September, I think you'll agree, this was a cheeky raspberry. I can see it yet, an impudent little bit of glowing red cupped in my hand--a raspberry!! and having the nerve to be a raspberry in a difficult and unlikely place at the edge of winter. So far as I could tell, this raspberry wasn't worrying about the coming snow; it wasn't complaining about the wind, or the rocks--it just kept busy being a raspberry. So far as I could tell, this raspberry lost no time comparing its small self unfavorably to the massive granite walls around it, or to the deep mysterious depths of the glacier lake below us. That raspberry went about its business of being a raspberry, knowing out of its unconscious essence that being a raspberry was both its calling and God's glory, and that, therefore, being a raspberry was enough.

Are you practicing with resilient courage your God-imaging task of "blooming where you're planted?" God's kingdom is always in need of more raspberries.

Thinking with you what it means to persist contentedly as a part of God's creation where I have been placed.

See you next week.


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