Break Fresh Ground

Give me the faith to leave old ways and break fresh ground with you.  

- Brendan Litany, Celtic Daily Prayer

Old ways are wonderful.  The path is smooth. There are no fears of tripping over rocks or of weeds choking our way.  We won’t get lost because we know them so well.  We are safe from the pain of working the ground.  Yet . . .  It also means that nothing is really growing.  The ground is so hard that nothing can break through.

In fourth grade I started along one of these ways.  Another student in class asked about my report card and when I told her she responded with admiration: “You got all A’s?”.  Over the next years I slowly created a well-traveled path in which worth and acceptance came from high grades, winning contests, and being seen as intelligent.  I didn’t have to bother with the pain and difficulty of friendships.  Instead I could be in control.  In essence people would come to me because I had something to offer.  I traded real relationships for the relatively smooth road of approval.

Though it may not be grades now, at some level I continue to walk this path.  I expect people to come to me based on my work.  On campus I prepare events and wait for people to attend.  I share information about ministry growth and expect people to give.  I redecorate my home and want people to enjoy the space so that they will just start coming over.  It’s a comfortable and controlled path.  This way is so entrenched that I haven’t often seen it for what it is: a call for everyone to focus on my story.  Nothing much new grows on such a road.

We all have ways that have become so comfortable that we are blind to them and, even when we do see, we often don’t want to change.  These ways are more than a smooth road; they are deep ruts from which we need help climbing. 

Instead of staying in old ways this prayer invites us to think about moving to paths that are “fresh ground”.  I think of newly turned soil.  Ground in which my feet can gain traction and rise out of that rut.  Ground in which seeds will grow and thrive.  Throw seeds on a tamped down piece of ground and they will sit there or be blown away.  But break up the dirt, nurture it, and they will grow.  

However, fresh ground is uncertain.  It takes tending.  It produces anxiety.  Will the seeds grow?  Is there enough water?  Will someone trip?  

Sometimes I start breaking up the ground to see what will happen. Several years ago it was time to step into the unknown territory of faculty ministry.  I was ready to pray and rely on God.  First I introduced myself to professors and invited them to meet together.  Eventually a couple of groups started and I established a routine that was comfortable. Without intending it, I started to create a rut in the monthly work of scheduling, preparing a Bible study, leading the meeting, repeat.  I stopped meeting new people.  I again reasoned that people would come when they saw what was happening.  As these groups took off, then I would know that I was approved - not only by the faculty, but most importantly by God.

I was back in old ways, safe in the illusion of control and waiting for approval, this time based on event attendance.  I sensed something was wrong.  What I had thought was the safe and right way was actually life without God.  The fresh ground is life with God. 

Where are you cultivating the ground with God?  This is key - he’s not saying go out and do this on our own.  It’s with him.  His right hand will hold us as promised in the words of Isaiah:

So do not fear, for I am with you;

 do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. - Isaiah 41:10

This fresh ground that God helps us prepare may look different for each person.  Brendan went off on the sea, to preach, to share the good news.  Staying and listening to Jesus was right for Mary of Bethany.  Going off to the Gentiles was right for Paul.  All this was fresh ground - all this was with Jesus.

Now in this place of recognizing entrenched ways I ask Jesus where he is breaking up ground.  Asking, maybe each hour, if I may follow him.  With a bit of trepidation I test this path.  I stop by to introduce myself to a professor.  I say yes to unplanned conversations.  I’m not trying to include them in my story, my kingdom, but inviting them to look at Jesus and walk with him.  I’ll need new, sturdier shoes.  I’ll need to keep my hand in God’s.

Along the way I smell a deep scent of earth.  Of possibility.  Of growth.