Summer Cactus

In our chapel’s upper room is a flowering cactus (I am loathe to describe it as a Christmas or Easter cactus for obvious reasons). It was downstairs, but someone evidently loved it too, and relocated it. It is one of the ones with red blooms rather purple, which seems to make it rather fussy and prone to dying. It was originally in my home and failed to thrive; at the chapel, however, it seems much happier. I doubt the water there is any purer, and the air would be only marginally cleaner. I suspect it is to do with the levels of light; Christmas Cacti come from the mountains of South America. Too much or too little light and they give up the ghost.

The light afforded from our chapel's rear evidently aligns with that particular plant’s need. Each Christian has a need of the Light (the Lord Jesus, Light of the world) but also of ‘light’ in the sense of knowledge and truth. I have heavy tomes of theology which much vex my intellect; these contain light, but it is too intensive and oft-times frazzles my brain. A Ladybird Jesus the Helper for 6 year-olds also contains light, but the intensity thereof offers little illumination to a pastor (though the pictures are rather fab). Planning a Bible Study in an average church is difficult, and so too a sermon. Some are at the beginning of faith’s journey and cannot cope with too much light which dazzles them; others are self-taught theologians who revel in scholastic controversy and hermeneutical discussion. How does one cater for both? A deep sermon with quotes from Warfield and citations of Calvin might allow some to thrive while others sink, splashing around in a dark sea of overwhelming complexity. Others would look down on a simple exposition as mere ‘milk’ rather than the ‘meat’ to which they have grown accustomed. Each one of us should seek to grow in grace, the strong accomodating the weak, the weak seeking to be stronger. Yet I pray that at Salem Chapel, or the church you attend, you will find the correct luminance and grow accordingly.