Cuba Community Thanksgiving Service
Pastor Amy Wharton
Joel 2:21–27
“The Joy of Dirt”
As a child, I spent most of my summers barefoot traipsing through the sandy dirt of northwest Oklahoma, walking through the black/purple mulberries and making mud pies on the make believe oven of my make believe kitchen getting dirtier than I can even remember. My feet were purple for months and full of thorns from the sandburrs of that part of the country. But I loved it, not caring about shoes for months at a time, only struggling into the most uncomfortable pair of white patent mary-janes for Sunday school and Church.
When I was in college, spending so much time inside with concrete floors and walls surrounding me in the residence halls and in classrooms, I yearned to walk barefoot in the dirt—to feel the earth under my feet and to get my hands dirty digging in a garden. My desire was that of a young girl, to walk through the hot sand of that driveway in northwest Oklahoma. I needed that connection to the earth, to a purpose and meaning as I continued to grow into the life that I was leading.
Those were the images that began flashing through my heart and mind as I read this scripture in the words of the prophet Joel.
21Do not fear, O soil;
be glad and rejoice,
for the Lord has done great things!
22Do not fear, you animals of the field,
for the pastures of the wilderness are green;
the tree bears its fruit,
the fig tree and vine give their full yield.
I remembered the happiness and satisfaction I experienced during summers with nothing concrete to accomplish and no responsibility, except the ultimate responsibility of childhood—to play and create with my mind and no one around to discourage my seemingly random actions. Along with memories of entertaining myself creating and playing in a make-believe world of my own, comes visions of hours spent trying to wheedle more concrete playthings from my mother or less creative hours spent in front of the television. Though they seemed care-free, the meaning and satisfaction I remember came from doing exactly what a child is called to do as a child—learn by playing, learn by imitating and learn by experiencing the world around me.
The freedom from the bondage of externally created fun that my mother encouraged as she pushed me out into the warm sunshine are the first and fondest images I have. I was encouraged in those fond times to enjoy the freedom of those days and weeks, to use them as the gifts that they were, to grow my mind and exercise my body, doing all of the things that play does for a child and all that play can do for the adult heart, mind and body as well.
The scripture from Joel describes the land of Israel as God’s people were freed from the time of drought and the plague of locust and brought back to a time of abundance in the land of God’s promise to Abraham and Sarah and their descendents. They were returned to rediscover the meaning of their lives as the inhabitants of that Promised Land. To praise their God as they worked the soil, tended the gardens, enjoyed the fruits of their labor. The people themselves, certainly are to be blessed—those who return and those who remained. The blessing extends into the abundant pouring of rain, which may be a hard to handle blessing at times in our lives—and onto the floors of the threshers, covered in grain and the overflowing vats of wine and oil.
But the beginning of the passage is about the joy of the soil itself—and the expression of that joy in the generous and overflowing abundance food available to the animals as the trees bear fruit, as the figs and the grapes and the olives are weighed down with enough and more to share. It calls to mind when Jesus speaks of the rocks and stone
The sure sign of God’s abundance is that it is more than could ever be needed—more than could be prudently given. Yet God’s action is always more than we think it could be and more than we could ever imagine.
This abundance follows days, weeks and months—even years of devastation in which the people suffer greatly. The devastation is described by the prophet as the land’s response to the people sin—the devastation of locusts, gnawing on the crops like hungry lion, destroying vines, stripping fig trees. Lamentation rises as people mourn for those lost to hunger, thirst and heat.
The prophet wrote in the time after exile when the people of Israel hoped to enjoy abundance—this vision from the second chapter. Yet the people have experienced devastation, destruction that comes with drought and infestations of locusts.
The promise of God given to Joel is that the devastation and the need are not signs of the day of the Lord. The destruction of the infestations of locusts is not the sign of God. The fires that often come with drought after abundance were not the action of God. The starvation was not God’s will; the hungry people and the thirsty land were not what God wanted.
This—this rejoicing of the soil—this gladness of the dirt—this hope of the animals for the return of fruits to the trees and abundance to the fields from which they could eat. And the full stomachs of the people of God—this would be the sign that it was God’s day.
26You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,
and praise the name of the Lord your God,
who has dealt wondrously with you.
And my people shall never again be put to shame.
27You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel,
and that I, the Lord, am your God and there is no other.
And my people shall never again
be put to shame.
So, I wonder, isn’t it a sign of God’s blessing and presence in our action when we take action to feed the hungry and house the homeless? Whenever we raise our voices with the purpose of providing for the needy, do we not invoke the action of God? When we ask for justice on behalf of anyone who is oppressed by any government, including ours, are we not speaking the word of God to the places of power?
The word in Joel also reminds us that the praise of God and the abundance of God are integrally linked. The abundance of God’s action within us and toward us elicits praise from us because we are taught to realize that abundance and mercy are the signs of God’s presence. When God is involved—as God’s purposes, plans, missions or intentions are pursued, the day of the Lord glimmers within us and around us. Generosity reveals God. Joy reveals God. Satisfaction with our blessings reveals God. Praise acknowledging God’s presence and work reveals God.
Those days when I was separated from the soil and I craved that contact were also days when I was craving the direction I needed in my life. I didn’t need to know Jesus Christ as my savior so much as I needed purpose and mission. I wanted my life to have meaning so that I could lift my voice in praise, knowing that God had directed my life in some concrete way. And I’ve found that in those times, I make choices that direct my life and my purpose for a time. And none of those choices has meant that my pockets run with gold or my bank account overflows—none has guaranteed that I won’t have times when I don’t have enough money, but when I have that direction, praise comes more easily. In my life, it isn’t wealth that has given my reason to rejoice, but when I can fulfill a purpose serving God.
When we can walk through the hot and sandy soil or the wet muddy soil or past the overflowing fields or barns full of an abundant harvest or into the places of scarce resources where God needs us to share the good news of God’s generous blessings, then we, too, can celebrate, praising God and lifting up our voices along with the dirt—rejoice and be glad!
Amen.
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