How do we prepare for the future in the midst of a pandemic? Such preparation for a day in which we will be able to gather again, living with some sense of normality, can feel foolish. With Jerusalem surrounded by Babylonian armies and its destruction imminent, the LORD instructed the prophet Jeremiah to make a real estate purchase. That seemed a waste of money. He bought a field in Anathoh, about three miles NE of Jerusalem. His cousin Hanamel sold it to him for seventeen shekels (probably glad to get something for it!) and he and Jeremiah signed and sealed the deed. The Lord instructed Jeremiah to preserve the deed in hope of a day when people would return to Jerusalem and pick up life again.
Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Take these deeds, both this sealed deed of purchase and this open deed, and put them in an earthenware jar, in order that they may last for a long time. For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land. (Jer. 32:14–15, NRSV)
Our pastor in San Antonio, John Garland, closes each service with a benediction that includes the phrase, “Risk something big for something good.”
We have felt a bit like Jeremiah lately. With social life being disrupted by the Covid-19 crisis, one of our dreams has been called into question. Since 2014, we have been working with a vision for using our land to help educate seminary students around issues of ecology and agriculture. That vision was stirred when I attended a Seminary Stewardship Alliance annual meeting in Winston-Salem, NC in 2014 and heard of the farm operated by the Methodist Theologcial Seminary of Ohio. Melinda wondered why we couldn’t do something similar. The vision has been refined over these six years. We’ve engaged the prairie restoration project, found partners in both Waco and the Floresville area, and hosted two classes from Truett Seminary on Creation Care and Spiritual Practice. Meanwhile, Truett Seminary is partnering with the World Hunger Relief Farm in Waco to establish a program in Theology, Ecology, and Food Justice.
Neighbors have been kind enough to keep students in their homes, since we couldn’t have everyone here. But we wanted to build a “barn-dorminium” that would have rooms for guests to stay in. We set money aside each month toward the project. Our architect son has patiently drawn and redrawn plans as we have refined the project. We have been disappointed by talking to contractors whose bids far exceeded our means. But this past spring, we had a plan and a contractor who matched our budget. He sent us a contract to sign. And before we could sign it, Covid-19 struck. We didn’t think it wise to tie up our savings in the project when we didn’t know what was coming next. So, we hit the pause button.
Last month, after prayer and some discernment, we felt it was right to go ahead. We signed the contract and wrote a check for the down payment. We risked something big for something good. Like Jeremiah, we did this in hope that the days would come in which we’d be able to carry out the vision.
In preparation for the construction, Melinda and I removed as many as possible of the hundreds of prairie grasses growing where the building will stand. These will be transplanted to other parts of the field. We're going to share some of them with our family in Houston (our architect and consultant) for the pocket prairie they are developing in their back yard.
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And now ground is being broken. By the end of the year, the blue barn will be in place. It will have a garage/barn on one end, a breezeway and deck in the middle, and three dorm rooms on the other end (two on the first floor and one above them). We hope to use the building to house students, interns, and guests. It will stand across the driveway from our garden, between two large pecan trees my grandmother planted thirty years ago and will extend into the prairie itself.
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| The barn will look something like this, but blue with a metallic roof. |
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