Transformation and manure that hits the fan

I recently visited my church’s sister parish in London. The priest there was kind enough to make a large “Ask me for a blessing” sign so that I could give this ministry a go with the Brits.

I stationed myself in two places. In the morning, I stood outside St. Mary Aldermary, located along the oldest road in the UK – Watling Street – with the church doors and one of those picturesque red telephone booths behind me. In the afternoon, I stood outside St. Vedast, which is a stone’s throw from St. Paul’s Cathedral. Both churches are in London’s financial district, where the Roman city of Londinium was founded around 50 AD. (That historical fact is a little extraneous to this blog post but still really cool.)

My time offering blessings in London was much like what I experience in New York. I got a handful of people who stopped, along with the usual smiles and nods from many who kept walking, one or two thumbs up, and plenty of people who gave me side-eye. A few folks tried to covertly take my picture, and I pretended not to notice – something else that happens on a regular basis.

Also typical is that most people who stopped wanted prayers for healing – one person had a bruised rib, another’s friend had cancer, a freaked-out parent said her young son had just received a troubling diagnosis. There were also people who were quite joyous. Someone eagerly asked me to explain what a blessing is. A happy couple asked me to bless their relationship. To my surprise and delight, the husband of the Bishop of London passed by. We recognized each other from a lunch in NYC a few years back. So, he stopped for chat and was kind enough to come to hear me preach at St. Vedast that Sunday.

The most interesting encounter I had was with a man who was clearly distressed. He opened with this line: “I’m in a time of transformation.” He went on to describe how turbulent his life was, how he didn’t know up from down, and how he couldn’t see a way forward. After a couple of minutes, he let out a big sigh, slumped his shoulders, and looked at me with eyes that pleaded for help.

“Do you remember the first thing you said to me?” I asked. “I think you might have meant to say you were in a time of transition. But you used the word ‘transformation’. You are in a time of transformation. That is a prophecy, and God will deliver.”

How amazing that through a slip of the tongue, this man had spoken some good news into his own life at a time when he needed to hear it most. All I had to do was point it out. We went on to talk and pray about God working all things together for good. I shared with him an image I recalled from a ​book of spiritual essays, Suspended by No String – the shadows in our lives are cast by God’s light, a light that will always outshine the darkness. This man wasn’t religious or even a person of faith, but he could affirm that sentiment. That hope. That truth.

A few days later, I mentioned the man in my Sunday sermon, which was about Jesus’ parable of the fig tree that hasn’t been producing figs. The gardener in the parable tells the owner of the vineyard that he will heap manure on the tree so that it will bear fruit in a year’s time. We understand that manure is fertilizer in this context.

But there is other manure in our lives. Manure that happens. Manure that hits the fan. You know what I mean. I was worried I offended some British sensibilities by referencing “shit” in a sermon – and you might be shocked and appalled too! – but there is no denying that God can turn any manure into fertilizer for our emotional health and spiritual growth.

If you’re in a time of transition or tribulation, know that it’s also a time of transformation. God the gardener, who breathed life into you and called you good, is at work once again – cultivating, pruning, and landscaping with love, so you may be like a tree planted by streams of water, yielding fruit in its season. (Psalm 1:3).