Too Much Mulch! It's a Gift...

I over-ordered mulch for our landscaping. Again.

We live on a very windy hill, and the winter winds blow our landscaping mulch every which way.  If you could put a GPS on mulch,  our entire neighborhood would glow on the satellite images with the note, "mulch blown over from that guy on the corner lot."

Anyway, I really just needed some topsoil this spring, but I ordered extra mulch out of habit. I mean, when have I not needed mulch? Well, I didn't need this much.

So, I told the neighbors to the side of me, 'please, feel free to wheelbarrow as much mulch as you like.' But they had some ordered already. 'Cancel the order,' I suggested hopefully.  But, their mulch plan was firmly entrenched.

And so I continued telling neighbors one by one.  They had their own, or felt funny about taking mine.

Finally, I caught up with a neighbor who had been out of town, and he gladly agreed to use whatever I could not. In fact, he said he had under-ordered mulch, whereas I had over-ordered.  'But, I want to pay for the share I use,' he generously offered.

'Not necessary,' I replied, 'you're actually doing me a favor.' And I meant it. He looked a bit uncomfortable with those terms, but we left it at that.  Now the mulch is off my driveway and his landscaping looks great. I sincerely hope he doesn't follow up with cash for what I intended as a gift. I was really happy with the way it turned out.

Question though: Have I ever gone to that much trouble to share the gift of the gospel with these same neighbors? Literally stopping them in their yard - or crossing the street to say, 'I know where you can get wheelbarrows and wheelbarrows full of Grace. It never runs out. The wind never blows it away. And, it's unconditionally free. A gift that you only have to receive.'

No - because they look like they probably don't need it. I see their cars drive away on Sunday morning, presumably to the church of their choice. They seem like kind, upstanding citizens. It might be awkward, me talking about the free gift of eternal redemption. Something that could change their lives, or their extended friends and family.

It was the last person I talked to that accepted the mulch. His yard looked great before we talked. It looks even better now. I'm glad we had the chance to talk. I'm even happier he chose to accept the neighborly gift.

What do you believe?

Bulldozing St. Phillips in the Country

I drove past the old St. Philips church last week -- well, what was left of it.

The little red brick building had just been bulldozed and workers were hauling the debris to a dump truck. It's a prime suburban location in a fast growth area, so they're building residences. 

30 years ago, St. Philips was established 'out in the country' as an alternative place of worship for people who would not, or could not, drive all the way into the nearby city.  Now, there are plenty of good roads and nearby megachurch options that simply obsoleted the need for tiny St. Philips.

Try an internet search and you'll learn that many thousands of churches have come to their end in recent decades - some due to violence, and some to spiritual indifference.

Should the loss of these buildings trouble us? In fact, the Apostle Paul observed,

"The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth, and does not live in temples built by hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all people life and breath and everything else." Acts 17:24

I love going to our own church each week. It's beautiful inside - wide open and spacious. Colorful stained glass on multistory walls that lead up to a stunning cathedral ceiling. Nicely architected lines, wood paneling and brick. It is a worshipful place, and we sincerely offer God the praise and honor and glory. He is worthy of it.

But people built relationships with God long before they built magnificent buildings in which to worship him.  So I don't think it's disappearing church buildings that should bother us most here in the U.S..

More so, it's the disappearing spirituality of 'church' that grabs my attention.  When my friends come back from Europe or Australia, they're generally discouraged over spiritual matters. They see centuries-worth of exquisite churches built by human hands - but they struggle to find the spiritual congregation that breathes life into those structures. 

I'm praying that despite the unceremonious passing of little St. Phillips church, that the spiritual side of that new neighborhood will grow and flourish.

What do you believe?