Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Front Garden at Shire. Lush. Yucca. Flourished always

No need to water! Verdant. Even in summer. Miracle garden.

Act of God? No! Leaking water pipe. Which cost a lot.

Parable of the Front Garden: well watered soil, good roots.

Jeremiah. And Psalm 1. Dry soil, wither and die.

So where do you put your trust? Whence do you draw opinions?

Yourself? Many do. I feel, I think, I am. Accommodate me!

Politician Corbyn, Thatcher. Media?! BBC, Guardian, Telegraph

Stockbroker or bank, Money. Just enough to be comfortable.

Your GP or your surgeon.

Yet claim in Jeremiah is that humans are flawed.

Witness of the whole Bible. “Desperately sick”. Not dead, sick.

Not as bad as can be, but flawed. Imperfect. Mistakes. Burns:

Many and sharp the num'rous ills

Inwoven with our frame!

More pointed still we make ourselves

Regret, remorse, and shame!

And man, whose heav'n-erected face

The smiles of love adorn, –

Man's inhumanity to man

Makes countless thousands mourn!

So what to do? Jeremiah’s answer is simple: seek better soil.

Trust not barren soil man, but rich well-watered soil of God.

Draw up the deep, eternal nutrients of the divine. But, how?

Let me give you a good Anglican answer! BCP every day.

Prayers, readings, home, work, together, alone.

Structure to do this, to read bible a year. Punctuate life.

Water the soil, put down the roots. Grows.

Maybe not BCP, but daily rounds. Habits. Ordinary means.

So where place trust? What are roots? Will they nourish

In the end all is fleeting except God.

So put down your roots in his well watered soil.