Dislocated in the garden

In Lauren Winner's book Still, I discover a term I've never heard before. Dislocated Exegesis. "Where you read changes how you read," she says. It feels eerily unsettling (apparently, that's the whole point): I worry about taking God's Word out of context.

But still, I think I might like it. It speaks to me. Going to a prison or an art gallery or a bank, opening and reading Scripture, speaking to that very place.

So today, after a hot walk where my shins ache because I did the very same walk yesterday (faster, unadvisably), I sit in the garden - our happy place, where we take our children after they are born and introduce them to the roses in the city - and read:

Work at getting along with each other and with God. Otherwise you'll never get so much as a glimpse of God. Make sure no one gets left out of God's generosity. Keep a sharp eye out for weeds of bitter discontent. A thistle or two gone to seed can ruin a whole garden in no time. Watch out for the Esau syndrome: trading away God's lifelong gift in order to satisfy a short-term appetite. You well know how Esau later regretted that impulsive act and wanted God's blessing—but by then it was too late, tears or no tears.

Hebrews 12:14-17 {the message}

I keep an eye on my weeds, I reach to pluck the thistles, I see the gift: there is a garden everwhere I look.