We have long been composters. As a child, we had a terrible bin in the corner of the yard and each night after dinner, I would have to carry a slimy, dripping bag of potato peels and unrecognizable substances to the compost pile.
In our home now, we have a nice stainless steel bin that replaced the dripping grocery bags and we use a lovely turning mechanism that is free from rancid smells and unappealing sights and yet, the composting is still the least favorite chore.
We don't like to look at things that are rotting and beginning the process of death. We toss the leftover food in the trash bin and avoid making space for the transformation of the dirt.
As I turn the bin and allow the air to get in, I stand like a child who has just seen a magic trick, full of excitement and wonder when I no longer see orange peels and banana skins in the mix. They are gone, like a quarter behind the ear of the magician and I am amazed every single time. What was at best leftover and at worst, a smelly slimy mess, has been transformed into something rich and useful and full of goodness.
On Ash Wednesday we willingly came forward and invited the dirt to be smudged on to our foreheads, knowing that somehow, even in us, we believe that something new can grow.
Each and every one of my emails is decorated with the Isaiah text (See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. 43:19) which reminds us that the new thing will happen whether or not we notice it, but how much better is it when we notice? When allow the darkest parts of our lives to be transformed. When we arrive at a spiritual awareness when we can see the fruit of God manifest in our lives.
This transformation produces so much goodness. We are able to look at enemies with love, we are able to allow others to merge first on the interstate, we are able to resist the overspending and the need for revenge. These are the modern day fruits of Isaiah's call and evidence that God makes a way in the wasteland.
Author Jeff Chu spent time at Princeton Seminary's Farminary program and he also felt the spiritual components of compost as he shares:
“The more time I spend at the compost pile, the more I wonder whether one thing we might need is a robust theology of compost. The more time I spend at the compost pile, the more I think we must help write a narrative of hope amid the world’s narratives of despair. And the more time I spend at the compost pile, the more I ask, Isn’t the story of compost really just the story of God? Turning fear to courage, sorrow to joy, death to life.”
Our little country compost pile of my youth was magnified when we lived in Seattle as the local ordinances required composting and provided trashcan like bins to collect the food waste. The city used the gathered compost and transformed it into liquid nitrogen and sold it to benefit the city.
As we move another day into this lenten season, I hope you will join me in longing for something new to grow in you and from you. After all, I am convinced and confidant that God does great work transforming the dark things into the best things.
