Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Consider the Dandelion

It seems the target of every weed killer ad is the much maligned and humble dandelion. A threatening, deep voice lists the many threats to a pristine lawn as the camera zooms in on a healthy dandelion with bright yellow flower. A hand appears from the side of the screen to grab the bottle of weed killer and, with sniper precision, targets the spray on the dandelion. A time-lapse of the plant shows the flower start to droop, followed by the arms of the leaves, until the entire plant goes from regal and crowned to shriveled and decrepit. Trumpets blast as the enemy has been vanquished. Your lawn is safe once again!
I must admit that I have an affinity for dandelions. I fruitlessly hope for the underdog in the commercial. Dandelions are pretty incredible plants. The leaves are edible and make a traditional salad. If you’ve eaten poke salat, then you likely have had dandelion greens as well. The flowers are bright yellow and smell of sunshine. For this reason they have been used to flavor cookies and make wine. For centuries dandelions were collected for their medicinal properties.
But perhaps the most magical part of the dandelion is that their heads, once full of seeds, can grant wishes! I remember laying in the grass, pulling at the dandelion flowers and blowing on the seeds to watch them take flight in the wind of my breath. Friends would race from one pristine seed head to another. We wanted to be the first to reach the plant so we could get the wish, but we had to be careful. We couldn’t run full-stop all the way to the white puff ball, otherwise the wind from our legs would cause some of the seeds to release and take flight. This would ruin the wish because only a perfectly intact and fully developed seed head could grant wishes. God demands a perfect sacrifice, after all. We would snatch up the fluffy orb, close our eyes, make a wish, and gently blow on the former flower to watch the seeds fly away, along with our wish.
Those seeds might be the real miracle of the plant. They are tenacious in their determination to root in any condition. They flourish in the rich soil of a well-tended lawn, but they are equally at home in the crack of a paved driveway or the slightest collection of soil in the crag of a rock. World be damned, they are going to grow into the plant God intended. It’s for this very reason that dandelions frustrate the most patient of gardeners.
Now imagine if we thought these seeds were so precious that we saved them. We gingerly placed them in small glass boxes, rimmed in gold, and hung them from chains around our necks. When we travelled to see family, we took dandelion seeds enshrined in plastic with poems to give as gifts.
You might have some sense, then, for what it was like for those who heard Jesus compare the kingdom of God to a mustard seed. Like many things in the Bible, our distance in time and space from Christ have allowed us to domesticate the radical wildness of this parable. Mustard seeds are small, light enough to be carried by the wind, and grow everywhere. They grow with determination and vigor. Their seeds and leaves have medicinal property and are used in cooking. They are the dandelions of Christ’s time and it must have sounded ludicrous for something as mysterious and precious as the kingdom of God be compared to the most mundane of plants.
The kingdom of God is like a dandelion seed. The seed takes flight at the slightest whisper of wind from the Holy Spirit. It floats until it finds the most meager amount of soil, where it will take root and grow, even against all odds. It can dig into the darkest and coldest of hearts and bring light.
It grows to our consternation at times. We would look at a seemingly barren landscape and think, “No. The kingdom of heaven can’t be in this place, among these people.” And yet, the Spirit is there, growing in hearts, between the cracks. We would look at someone we would consider depraved, a heartless enemy, and yet, the Spirit is growing inside of them, having carried a seed in its breath and encouraged it to spread roots.
Would we be like the children, running, rushing even, to snatch up the next seed head to make a wish and blow, spreading kingdom seeds. We spend too much time judging what people and places might have the kingdom within them, which might be worthy to receive it and call its own. Instead, we should be in the business of wonder, wishes, and excitement as we whisper to the Spirit, “Take flight!” and watch as the seeds go, not where we design but where God would carry them.
The kingdom of God knows no boundaries, no borders, any more than a dandelion seed knows fences and property lines. As Christians, it is into this world we are called, one littered with kingdom seeds that could use our encouragement and watering, including those that lie deep within our own hearts.

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