One day on our first ever week-long biking tour, we came across a stunning field of sunflowers. Everyone in our group stopped to marvel, and to snap photos. A woman next to me, more in wonder than seeking information, asked “How do they plant all those sunflowers so they face in the same direction?” I pointed out that “They are sun-flowers.”
Young sunflowers track the sun all day long, facing east in the morning, and gradually toward the west late in the day. Even on cloudy or stormy days, they still track the sun. What an image of the ideal spiritual life with God. All day long, from waking to going to bed, you keep your face, your soul trained in God’s direction, eyes open to the presence of God. I love that.
But notice I said “young” sunflowers. After digging the image of the sunflower-like soul for several days, I did a little research. As sunflowers mature, they stop tracking the sun and face only east. Dang. A little sigh of disappointment. Then what to make of this? As we grow older, do we feel more independent, and thus don’t look to God as we once did? Or is it that as we mature in faith, we firm up the looking to the east, the way classic churches or cemetery headstones face east? For that is where we know, no matter what happens, the sun will rise, that hope will come.
Of course, the sunflower can do this facing east, or tracking the sun all day long, because of what isn’t visible: the root system underground, and the rain and nutrients. There’s the strength, the dark beauty. People ask me about how to build a connection with God. I wish I had a more exotic prescription, but it’s so plain – and so doable. Time. Being still. Quiet. Pondering the words in God’s Word. Speaking with God, not in a rush, and not just pleading for favors. And listening. Discipline. Constancy. Oh, and serving others, especially the unlikely ones, the vulnerable ones. Do this constantly and you’ll be as beautiful as a field of sunflowers.
The poet Mary Oliver wrote “My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird, equal seekers of sweetness. Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, standing still and learning to be astonished.”
Actually, the sunflowers aren’t just a symbol of the spiritual life. Seeing and pondering them? This is the spiritual life. On a bike, or on foot, you see, hear, smell, and hear things you’d miss in a car, tour bus, or airplane. And certainly on your computer screen.
Paul Kingsnorth (Against the Machine) has put into words what we all feel: we now find ourselves in the sorry moment of history when we are glued to screens, shopping, gleaning information, watching – and we’re being watched! I’m just an algorithm in the technocracy that is measuring my tastes and vulnerabilities to entrap me ever more inescapably in the grip of this virtual grid. It depersonalizes us, isolating us from real community, from the earth, and from God.
No wonder loneliness is so rampant, and it produces so much anxiety, fear, sometimes rage, and always more loneliness. I have a neighbor with a single sunflower. It’s lovely, and science says the sunflower grows taller and stronger alone. That’s the illusion for us, right? Sure, a field of sunflowers have to share resources. But that’s part of the beauty. We’re in this together.
And we’re made to be out of doors. Some time today, shut off your gadgets. Maybe all day. Humanity survived for millennia without them. Get your feet on the earth. Feel the breeze. Notice anything blooming, and also those beautiful things that nobody’s think to photograph. Watch the clouds. And the trees – such marvels.
And be sure to hold in your mind that you’re surveying God’s handiwork. Creation is way better than another photo-op for Facebook. God made and will finally redeem not just us but all of it. We have the privilege of living our days in this theater of God’s glory that will one day be eternal, no matter the fate of this earth, which we humans might just wreck with our recklessness.
Oh, and do be a sunflower today. A young one. Do your work. Be astonished. Love the world. Love God. Face God. Look for God. Let God’s grace shine on you all day long, illuminating your heart.
BONUS! Here’s a poem written by Amelia Fisher (who just graduated from UNC, and is starting Duke Divinity School this Fall), after hearing my sermon on the sunflowers:
Morning to evening, I will follow You.
Dawn to dusk, I will follow You.
East to west, I will follow You.
My petals follow Your light, for in it I find rest.
My petals follow Your direction,
for in it I find growth.
My petals follow Your warmth,
for in it I find the Spirit, my Eternal Helper.
As the sunflower turns to follow the sun’s light,
so do I turn to follow Your light, O Lord
– the light that warms my inner being.
As the sunflower turns to follow the sun’s direction,
so do I turn to follow Your direction, O Lord
– the direction that leads me through all seasons,
both the summers and the winters.
As the sunflower turns to follow the sun’s warmth,
so do I turn to follow Your warmth, O Lord
– the warmth that thaws my heart from the cold of this world.
It turns out these beaming flowers I have admired for so long
are not so different than I, O Lord.
We both strive to follow the very thing that brings us life,
that sustains our very being, and that reminds us, day by day,
that the light will overcome the darkness once more.
Amen.