October 3, 2023

 5 years ago this week, I was painting my living room because my husband was out of town at a film festival.  I was painting because he had applied for a new job in a new city and I had a feeling we might be moving.  It would be a big job to prepare our house for tenants and I wanted to get a head start.

            At that point, we owned our house for 13 years, put in new windows, pulled up the carpet and 50 years of carpet staples one by one, refinished the wood floor, put a new roof on the place, completely redone our bathroom after a disastrous leak, built 4 raised beds in the yard, planted 2 cherry trees and a maple, planted raspberries and blueberries, buried 2 cats in the yard, painted the house, and made countless improvements inside and out.  I thought we would always live in that house since we had no inclination to move up to that point.  But when that job came open, my husband applied and I prayed that he wouldn’t get it.  But he did.

            So we prepared our house for tenants.  I scrubbed every corner, every ceiling, every window.  We repainted every room, scrubbed even around the sink sprayer.  Everything had to be in tip-top shape.  As we pulled away, I looked at my gleaming house and wished I could live there.

            This was a place where we dreamed together, where we brought our baby home from the hospital, where Sterling took his first steps, where we shared so many meals and good memories.  It was a place full of life, with green growing things in the yard, soil amended year after year to be healthy and life-giving.  We invested in this place and had a vision for its future.  But we had to leave it behind.

            This is maybe how this vineyard owner feels.  He has invested money and hope into this place that it would be a place of blessing, a place of abundance, a place of hope.  But something calls him away.  He has responsibilities that take his energy and attention.  So he leaves it in the hands of people he hopes will use it as a blessing—people he pays to make it a blessing. But they are not on the same page.

            What a familiar scenario!  This beautiful planet that God has made has been an investment with a vision, building it over the millennia and then handing it over to us as stewards.  And what do we do?  We say this is mine!  I own this land.  I bought this land.  No one can tell me what to do with it.  We are on a path to destroy life on this planet and caused much human suffering because we couldn’t see the bigger picture. 

            That’s where our Trinity Building Relationships Task Force has picked up.  They originally started meeting to develop a land acknowledgement statement to name the First Nations tribes who stewarded this land with a bigger vision than what is mine or yours, but invested in it so it would exist in its own beauty and bless people for generations to come.  We benefit from their vision and foresight as we now learn to steward the land and not just think of it as mine, but ours, to bless the whole community.  Out of these efforts we have this new Indigenous library and a land acknowledgement statement is on it’s way.

            Maybe that’s part of what the vision of the possible Trinity parking lot rain gardens is for—to consider what it means that so much parking lot runoff goes into Johnson Creek carrying motor oil in it.  What would it mean to de-pave, to make more space natural again, even if it looks messy sometimes?  What would it mean to care for the rain garden so it is a blessing rather than an eye-sore?  How might the blessing of less pollution running into the creek be part of God’s vision of harmony with what God has made?  How might a tiny corner of Trinity parking lot become a tiny bit of cooler space in our neighborhood toward the greater good?  And maybe we’ll save a few bucks on our water bill.

            We’ve all invested in our church with a vision in mind.  Some of that vision came directly out of God’s vision—people being fed, people being comforted, a welcome space for anyone feeling alone, children laughing, treats being consumed, blessings shared.  Sometimes we carry a vision and we hand it over and it isn’t carried out exactly as we hoped.  Sometimes we see God’s dream being carried out better than we ever could have anticipated. 

            I moved back into my house 2 ½ years after we left for Tacoma.  My longing to be in that space again was realized.  My raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries were all dead.  But no damage was done that couldn’t be fixed or washed away.

            With God’s vision, every sin is wiped away each week in our confession and forgiveness and we try to get re-aligned with what God has in mind.  We try to capture that vision again so we can go out and live it.  It is a responsibility we have to keep this vineyard.  Sometimes we hang on too tight.  We want to control it as if it were ours.  A lot of being a steward is remembering our place, that God has made the investment and we are workers carrying out God’s vision. 

            We’re in kind of this in between space, holding the vision that God is sharing with us, of plenty and peace, and sharing and love and forgiveness, abundant blessing, no more crying or pain or grief.  And we’re living in the real world where everyone is claiming theirs.  We want to make sure we aren’t reliant on other people to take care of us.  We want to make sure we get our little piece.  This happens at home, at work, at church, at play.  So many pressures are upon us to fit into this insecure world, this power-hungry, greedy, scared world. 

            We haven’t always been trustworthy stewards.  Sometimes we’ve been closer and sometimes we’ve really missed the mark.  As Jesus is telling the parable, he asks what the consequences should be for the stewards who killed the son and heir, who were greedy, who were insecure.  The people answer that the landowner should kill those miserable wretches and give it to someone else who can do a better job. 

            Jesus is telling the parable again to these scribes and Pharisees he was talking to last week and who were all in a huff over his authority.  This parable is a continuation.  Jesus’ authority comes from his investment in the vision of the Kingdom and his understanding of what brings abundant blessing to all.  Some of the consequences are that he will use his authority to take trust and responsibility out of the hands of those you would expect to do a good job—priests and pastors, the rich and powerful—and give it to those you wouldn’t expect, marginalized people who have been cut of from blessing.  God doesn’t threaten a miserable death, the people do.  Getting smashed by a rock could constitute a miserable death or maybe it is a humbling rock or one that we trip over and it reminds us of our vulnerability.  Maybe it is a reference to Jesus’ broken body and that the weapons we wield to keep people out will fall on us and have a force on us just like they do for everyone else. 

Let us remember today the people of  the Holy land this day, at war—that violence creates more violence and none of this is God’s vision.  We pray for peace and not only peace but justice and hope for all who have been oppressed.

            As Jesus’ disciples we have privilege and responsibility. We have the chance to see the vision he is setting before us, so beautiful and full of blessing and healing and love.  We have the privilege and responsibility to live that out.  We have the privilege and responsibility to do the hard work, to also invest in the Kingdom of God coming to earth.  We have the privilege and responsibility to live among God’s faithful people even when they are the unexpected people—that’s always more interesting anyway!  We have the privilege and responsibility to let go of ownership and control.  We have the privilege and responsibility to be with Jesus and all his friends in this vision of wholeness, hope, and abundant life.