Gardening is a respected British occupation. It is not a pastime. England’s ‘green and pleasant land’, in fact, is a garden. Anyone who has flown over the countryside on a clear day has marvelled at the patchwork parcels of fields, the work of millennia of farmers working the land.

In 2000 we moved, for the first time in our lives, into our own house; and I became a gardener. At one time I thought I would log the hours I spent on the garden. But, before the three years of clearing out the jungle and rubble to reach ground zero were complete I lost track. In the fourth year the joy of creating something new out of nothing began with the planting of a lawn and the first bushes.

This Summer, following two drenched Summers, the back garden attained the level of maturity which has allowed me to sit and enjoy the form, colour, and chaos of my English garden.

One afternoon this week, just home from the day at the desk, as I sat taking in the view, with the late sun casting shadows through the leaves of the western bushes while setting the eastern blossoms afire; and, wondering at the transformation of this small patch of earth from nine years ago; I was struck by the recollection that God was the first gardener; the first to set apart a space of order in the midst of the chaos of creation.

Jews and Christians praise the God of creation, in wonder at the diversity and beauty of ‘nature’ formed by His Word. At the same time, that creation left alone is either jungle or desert. But, the Human in service of the earth has repeatedly wrestled the ground into form and patterns of beauty, too.

According to Genesis 2, God himself set the Humans in his garden as gardeners, to take part in his creative work. Even my paltry effort at an English garden is a partnership with the Creator in creation. In some way, his work is not complete without Human involvement.