El campo

A North American speaker at a church planting conference the other day began his talk telling us about growing up on his Dad's farm: how hard they would toil to get the seeds planted, how satisfying it was to see the harvest come up in the fall, and how apparent it was that they who planted and watered were nothing compared to the God who made the seeds grow (1 Cor 3:5-9).

Now clearly I don't really know, but I felt like this illustration captured the heart of the Chilean audience. Chile depends on its vast campo, and I get the feeling that part of being Chilean is being of the land (though I don't yet know quite what that conjures). Besides, pretty much everyone I've met here in Santiago grew up in the north or south of the country, so the hearts of many cityfolk are partly back home. I feel like this is something Tasmanians and Australians share. Not so much about farming (which I think we undervalue), but, for us, the wilds of Tasmania or the beauteous strangeness of the outback. These landscapes are ever with us, forcing us to make room for them in our identity, just as they have made room for us.