There are some daylilies jamming their way through the final layer of the Earth’s crust in my backyard.  I once heard some advice that asked me to – “Consider them.”  So I did.

These are some of the things I was told I must consider:

photo by Janet Powell at www.earthhealing.info

1. How they grow…
2. What they do for a living…
3. How fancy they are…
4. How they burn…

From what I can tell, they grow with very little maintenance, like weeds really.  My dog routinely urinates on them, which is not very helpful to the rest of the yard, yet these lilies don’t seem to mind too much.  I first notice them when they appear to be tiny, purple alien heads trying to gain a peak around my yard.  The purple thing turns white after a few days of spying, which later becomes a collection of tender green chutes.  Before long some of them have stems nearly as long as I am tall.  Alright, I’m impressed by “how they grow.”

However they serve no real purpose.  They are worthless freeloaders.  Jobless, they neither toil nor spin.  I’ve acquired a pinwheel via my 4 year-old daughter.  She is a magnificent collector of things with a wonderful capacity for inventorying her stuff should I accidentally “misplace” (see: discard) something she has collected.  This contraption spins its proverbial butt off; much more productive, I daresay, than the lazy lilies, which definitely do not spin.  Some claim a few of their ancestors sat for Georgia O’Keeffe, to which I replied, “Sat is not a job.”

Having considered them to a lesser extent last year, I know that soon they will become enormously fancy, more G-L-A-M-OR-OUS than, say, Fergie.  More flamboyant than the boys on Queer Eye.  Even more beautiful than Solomon, whom I contend, is an odd choice of simile.  He was supposed to be wise; and I’ve learned on TV that smart does not equal pretty. Their blooming season is a bit short for my taste.  I wish they’d stick around for another month.

I grabbed a few of the dried brown stocks from last year’s showing.  I wringed them into one lily-log and struck a match.  I wasn’t even done considering how they burn and my fire was nowhere to be found. I had to light some other things on fire just to finish my consideration.

Let’s recap: they’re tough little suckers that require no coddling.  They grow fast.  They die young.  Then they burn hot and fast.

Oh and somewhere in the middle of this process they demand your attention by their stunning display of the color orange.  The lesson is, you’re quite a bit more important than the flowers along the roadside, yet they are somehow clothed in beauty.  If you’re more valuable than a weed-like flower, I imagine you’ll be alright.  You’ll have some clothing to wear today.  Tomorrow – eh, I figure it can worry about itself.  (Matt 6)

Who do you say that I am?

“Who do you say that I am?”  It’s a great question.  This famous Biblical exchange between Jesus and Peter is cited as the birth of the church by some, the installation of the first Pope by others.  I don’t think Jesus was fishing for a compliment.  Regardless, Peter’s answer seems to excite Jesus’ sense of enthusiasm, like a teacher whose class has just advanced miraculously into the next area of study.

Though this question is asked by and about the Messiah, I wonder what might have happened had Peter answered and then asked back, “Okay, now who do you say that I am?”  Maybe Jesus offered just such a statement by calling him Cephas (rock or stone).

I don’t know why, but it seems the last thing I’ve done becomes who I am for the moment.  Anyone else?  Charitable donations make me equal to Mother Theresa, while some shred of falsehood, renders me an AIG executive, trying to cover up my payout.

I am what I do.  Or at least I think I am.  Descartes thought, therefore he was.  A carpenter saws therefore he is.  A housewife, cleans and cooks and disciplines, therefore she is.  A lobbyist bribes, a thief steals, a vacuum salesman sucks, therefore they are.  You get the idea.  So what’s the problem?  We are what we do, right?

But what if we’re more than a collection of our actions?  Being busy isn’t a horrible thing.  It is often quite healthy.  Too busy though, and we tend to forget who we ARE and instead define ourselves according to what we DO.  Of course the most fortunate of us do things that are an extension of who we are.  Even so, the temptation is to define one’s self by what they produce, rather than the reservoir of out of which that production flows.

You must own this book. Click the photo to order.

Philip Yancey quotes Brennan Manning talking about the Apostle John, he says, “If John were to be asked, ‘What’s your primary identity in life?’ he would not reply, ‘I am a disciple, an apostle, an evangelist author of one of the four gospels,’ but rather, ‘I am the one Jesus loves.’”

Of course being adisciple, apostle, evangelist and author is quite a collection of accomplishments.  But this collection of lesser titles hinge on the larger.  They are only true if the boldest  statement holds fast.  “I am loved by the God of the universe, therefore I am.”

In light of this reality all of the production, accolades and advancements fall quite silent.