Devotion on Exodus 3:1-17 and Luke 9:28-36
Tell Me About Your Garden series
Pastor Karen Crawford
Transfiguration Sunday
March 2, 2025
“O God, light a candle in my heart.
And sweep the darkness from Your dwelling space. Amen.” – Marian Wright Edelman
Thank you to the 15 gardeners, ranging in age from 51 to 102, for opening your homes and gardens to me and sharing your stories in the summer and fall of 2024 and as a group in spring 2025 for my doctoral project for Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary.
Listen to the devotion here:
Some of the best moments of my study of Presbyterian gardening spirituality happened during the garden tours. It was all part of the sacred experience, walking the soil together, breathing the air, sharing a conversation more intimate and personal because I had come to visit the gardeners in the most ordinary and familiar places for them—right where they live.
The walks usually followed the hour-long interviews, which, for all but two that happened outside, took place indoors, sitting around a kitchen table. I scribbled copious notes and recorded the audio during the interviews, being careful to ask all 15 gardeners the same batch of questions. But when we strolled outside, there were no set questions. No script. No notetaking. No recording devices.
We stepped into the sunlight of August, September, or October afternoons, and the gardeners became my guides. We walked through their yards, stopping at trees, shrubs, flower beds, vegetable plots, fairy gardens, container gardens, and composters. My senses drank in the sights, smells, and sounds. Gardeners shared more of their stories, thoughts, and feelings. I paid close attention and savored these moments, which ended all too soon.
Looking back, now that it’s winter, cold, and the days are still short, I remember the glorious, bright sunlight. I can still see the hues of flowers—purple, red, orange, blue, white, yellow; noises of birds, squirrels, and bees, and traffic rumbling by and having to pause the conversation or talk louder to be heard. I remember seeing the leaves drying, crumpling, and changing colors as summer gave way to fall, and blue sky and white, puffy clouds overhead. I remember the warmth and humidity following the August flood. And the mosquitoes and how much more enjoyable gardening would be, the gardeners laughed, if only those pesky creatures would just go away.
I am reminded of something artist Georgia O’Keeffe once said, “When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for a moment. I want to give that world to someone else. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.” [1] Minister, philosopher, and poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson writes, “Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting—a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.” [2]
When I read these passages in Exodus and Luke describing holy experiences with Moses and God at the burning bush on Mount Horeb and Peter, James, and John on the mountain with Jesus (and Moses and Elijah), I think of the importance of the outdoor setting for these personal, intimate, and terrifying encounters between human beings and their God. If they hadn’t climbed these mountains, they wouldn’t have happened. But in both accounts, the people experience the divine encounters unexpectedly. They are not on a spiritual pilgrimage seeking to meet with their God. Nor are the gardeners, who are just laboring in the soil when they see or hear something beautiful or surprising that catches them off guard and stirs new thoughts and feelings, peace and relaxation. They may not hear God’s voice, but they sense they are not alone in God’s Creation. Some learn spiritual lessons from the plants they are tending, such as when they are pruning. They let go of things they were worried about. Their bodies may be tired from the physical labor, but they often feel happy and satisfied. Kaitlyn says,
“Whenever I go out to the garden, I have that sense of connection. I feel like God is always with me. But I see more physical evidence there, and I am by myself, and I am waiting on things growing, watching the fig tree, and all of a sudden, it happens. And I say, ‘Thank you!’ I just feel so much gratitude…. When I see the butterflies and hummingbirds, they always give me a sense of awe. Each bird species has its own amazing factor. Plants and trees. It is a spiritual practice for me. It’s a combination of physical, emotional, and spiritual.”
One could argue that seeing the Lord is the farthest thing from Moses’ mind that day on the mountain. It is a day like any other day, tending to his father-in-law Jethro’s flocks. This bush that burns without being consumed is an angel of the Lord, we are told. We eavesdrop on Moses’ thoughts, “I must turn aside,” he says to himself, “and look at this great sight and see why the bush is not burned up.” The bush of this passage holds my attention, as well. Who is this God who speaks from bushes? Michael Zohary, professor of botany at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, tells us,
“Rarely has an ancient nation attributed holiness to so many plants as did the Hebrews during the biblical period. Scripture abounds with rites, feasts, and commands associated with plants and their cultivation. Numerous passages indicate that trees and woods were used as places of worship… Mighty and aged trees were adored and deified, serving as symbols of godliness and divine power. The Hebrew allon (oak) and elah (terebinth) are identical or cognate with the words for ‘god’ and ‘goddess’ … Perhaps the crowning example of the association of plants with holiness is embodied in the story of the ‘burning bush’ where God made his revelation to Moses.” [3]
Zohary believes this bush was an ordinary tropical shrub, Cassia senna, that likes warmth and grows up to one meter high in “stony wadis (or mostly dry riverbeds) both in the Sinai and in southern Israel.” [4] It has medical uses, “as a stimulant and purgative, under the name folia sennae.” [5]
When Moses hears God calling his name from the ordinary bush, he answers the Lord immediately, and removes his shoes, hearing that he is standing on holy ground. Peter, James, and John are also on holy ground, though they are only expecting to go up the mountain to pray with Jesus. They are the chosen three of the 12, who will experience unforgettable sights and sounds, when the one who has called them suddenly changes in his facial appearance and his clothes become “as bright as a flash of lightning.” [1]
Luke lets us know that Jesus and the ancient prophets are talking about “the exodus, which they are about to fulfill in Jerusalem.” This exodus was begun at the burning bush, with God calling him to go back and set free the captives from their misery and bring them to a land where they will be nourished and blessed, for it is “flowing with milk and honey.” A cloud overtakes the three disciples who are fighting sleep, and they hear a voice, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” We are now just a few days from Ash Wednesday, the beginning of our Lenten journey. We have learned from these readings that divine encounters are waiting for us outside in God’s Creation. And that ordinary plants and bushes can speak to us in extraordinary ways. French novelist Marcel Proust reminds us that we don’t have to go far to have a transformative experience. He writes, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes but in having new eyes.” [1]
Let us be ready for the unexpected—prepare our hearts, minds, and eyes to see what the Lord would have us see as we go about our daily routines, in our most familiar places, right where we live. For we, too, may be changed and used for God’s work, like Moses, Peter, James, and John, one day on a mountain with God.
Creator God who speaks from ordinary bushes, lead us outside to hear your voice and experience your presence in your Creation. Remind us that everywhere in this world we are standing, we are standing on holy ground. Speak to us with wise and gracious words. Keep us on the right path on this Lenten journey. Open our hearts, minds, ears, and eyes to see the world and ourselves with your vision. Draw us nearer to you and one another and teach us to love and wonder more. Amen.
[1] Marian Wright Edelman, “Hope” in Giving Thanks Giving Thanks, Poems Prayers and Praise Songs of Thanksgiving, edited by Katherin Paterson, 41.
[2] Georgia O’Keeffe quoted in F. Lynne Bachleda’s Blue Mountain: A Spiritual Anthology Celebrating the Earth, (Birmingham: Menasha Ridge Press, 2000), 43.
[3] Ralph Waldo Emerson quoted in Donna Sinclair’s Spirituality of Gardening (Canada: Northstone Publishing, 2005), 93.
[4] Zohary, Plants of the Bible (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 45.
[8] Marcel Proust quoted in Donna Sinclair’s Spirituality of Gardening, 92.
Sharing God's Love and Grace 