The death of a tree

A few months ago I wrote about a little “Karee Wilger” tree that was uprooted by a gardener who declared it dead. A friend brought it to me after he saw that there was still a little branch growing new leafs. We planted it and I did everything I could to help it survive the winter. At one stage it looked as if the little bugger was going to make it, but then the last revenge of winter’s icy frost gave the little tree its final blow. And so it died right before spring could breathe new energy and life into it.

It reminds of the life story of German theologian Dietrich Bonheoffer who fought hard and brave for the cause of Christ and then, right before the liberation of Europe and the fall of Hitler in 1945, he was executed.

Life has got a funny way of going in the other direction and reminding us that we humans are not as in control as we hope to be or think we are. Even for those travelling on the straight and narrow, life gives no guarantee.

An ancient philosopher, poet and writer struggled with the same thing. Good happens to bad people, bad happens to good people. The strong gets the same deck of cards as the weak.

In other words: Shit happens.

But then I stumbled upon a chapter in Brian McLaren’s book “Everything must change” called:
Hope happens.

Hope not shit. Hope from underneath the shit. Hope amongst all the shit. Hope in spite of shit. Hope against all shit. Hope because of shit.
The death of a tree leads to the decomposing of roots, leaves and branches, which in turn leads to new life. The death of a theologian by the hands of the enemy leads to the immortalising of his ideas, thoughts, truths and wisdom about how to become a follower of Jesus.

Only through death is resurrection possible.

Sacred Garden

Is there anything more sacred than ripe strawberries from your own little veggie garden, or watching the runner beans breaking through the soil to experience their first taste of sunlight, or smelling the newly planted sweet basil, rocket and parsley, or the expectancy of a little crop of maize, or the forest floor smell coming from your compost heap, or the sheer joy of growing your own tomatoes, chillies, lettuce, spring onions, beetroot, radish and Chinese cabbage?


No wonder the Book of God starts off with God being in a garden. Sowing, planting, growing and creating.


And then God looked at Homo sapiens and said: This is your home. Get your hands dirty! You’ll find joy in what you do.


But somewhere, with the help of shopping malls, plastic bags and pesticides we lost our earthly connection with Creation and its Creator. We’ve evolved into specie that relates better to lifeless, plastic, shiny metal stuff, than with earth, water, wind and fire.


No wonder we give a shit about life on earth.


Until you start to get compost and dirt underneath your fingernails, until you eat an entire meal out of your own little patch of life, until you reconnect with the way the seasons change and life grows and dies before your eyes, until then you’ll be fine with having carrots out of a plastic bag,

Let them have cake

In half an hour from now we’ll be throwing a spur of the moment birthday party for Humphrey.


Humphrey takes care of our garden once a week.


I did not know it’s his birthday today.


But Humphrey arrived here with a big cake.


His birthday must be noticed.


His humanity must be validated.


The cake becomes an outcry, a sort of metaphor reminding us that countless people from all walks of life arrive and leave unnoticed; men and women who never get to blow out candles and hear the cheers of friends and strangers celebrating the honour of being human.

At the place where I work we tend to make a big fuss about the people that look, talk and think like us. The rest, those who we so easily forget, are just given a cake, but without the cheers.

But not today.

Today will be different, because while the lawnmower growls in the background, and the chicken is cooking in the oven my wife is out doing some extra shopping, because a cake won’t do justice to Humphrey’s worth and value in and around our home and lives.

Nduvha lavhudi lamabebo anu Humphrey!

Kinderkrans

I am a child of the eighties. I grew up in a white, farming community. Every Monday after school my brother and I went to an “obligatory” Christian gathering for kids, called “Kinderkrans”.

Now forget everything you know about children education, experiential learning or fun activities, because the wife of the dominee had other plans.

Kinderkrans was a mini-church council meeting. We had agendas and minutes. We had to stay dead quite, only the adults could talk. Only once did they do something fun with us. On a hot summers day they brought out trays full of Oros cool drinks. That was it.

This morning I thought of the stuff they taught us in Kinderkrans.

1. The correct pronouncement of the word: “Hallelujah”.
2. To live “apart” from people that believe, look, think and talk differently from you is the way the world should be.
3. Jesus died on the cross for my sins.
4. Only missionaries should “work” amongst “the blacks”.
5. Jesus lives in my heart.
6. Black people don’t believe in Jesus, that’s why missionaries are so important.
7. All people who aren’t Christian will go to hell.
8. How to pray the “Our Father” prayer.
9. Christians don’t swear, drink, dance or marry blacks.
10. Catholics and Jehovah’s witnesses are also going to hell.
11. It’s the best to give money to help the missionaries hand out Bibles to the black people in Mozambique and Malawi, but you don’t have to give your money to help the blacks of South-Africa to live a decent, humane life.
12. Jesus loves all children.
13. Children must be seen, not heard.
14. Heaven is a perfect place for perfect people.
15. The Dutch Reformed Church has a perfect theology.

No wonder I am a doubtful believer, my faith was built on shit let alone sand.