This image began as a swirl of ideas about what is involved in serving rural believers. It was clear early on that there were too many associations with traditional Christian faith, rural life, and the challenges facing both in our time, to combine them into a coherent symbol. Indeed, it was a conversation of several months, with much give-and take and frequent head scratching, which led to the abandonment of many familiar symbols and combinations thereof. The result is this very tightly composed and highly symbolic composition that is both a celebratory wreath and broadly inclusive declaration of mission.

The circle and the cross have been combined in innumerable ways over the span of Christian history. Here both are used very specifically. The circle was not negotiable because the beginning point in this ministry is the fact of living by the fruits of the land. More than a modern pleasantry, this is a direct embrace of the spirituality that can arise only from living within the rhythms and balances of natural cycles. It is not an overstatement for me to suggest that this way of life is the literal grounding for all else, from the definition of humility (from humus...the soil) to the concept of paradise (which was entirely land-derived until the floating city that appealed to the persecuted believers in first century Christianity). In short, there is a great deal we cannot comprehend without subjecting ourselves to the realities of the greater story that encompasses not only human experience but the entire created order. Hence, the cross here has the compositional character of being imposed on, or at least subject to, the strength of the circle. In fact, the cross is complete only because the mind connects the four separate sections. As such, the entire design is not narrowly Christic as much as it is inclusively Trinitarian.

Within these theological references are symbols of the seasons (rain, sun, windswept leaves and snowflakes) that suggest parallel rhythms; wet and dry, hot and cold, light and dark, growth and dormancy. With these there is no beginning or end, no good and bad, no positive and negative. Inside the cross arms are images which are familiar as liturgical symbols but which are in fact rarely considered as what they originally were; abstractions from ancient rural life. No wonder they offer so much depth of consideration and suggest such breadth of human experience. Fitting in with the seasonal symbols around the: palm branch suggests newness, hope, beginnings, and Jesus' entry in Jerusalem; the grapes suggest growth, life-giving fluid, nurturing, and the Cup of the Covenant; the wheat suggests harvest, labor, sustenance from the soil, and the Body of Sacrifice; the thorns suggest ending, poignant reflection, resistance, and the Suffering of of Jesus. Centered in all of these is a dove, a mere bird in the sky or the reminder of the insistent lightness that animates all else.

There is nothing in this logo that is fully dependent on human intervention and labor. The fact that the separate images are symbolic of human experience is an interpretation. So while the overall character of the composition is intended to look celebratory and be an affirmation of rural life, human enterprises are not the basis of the spirituality here. The individual symbols are all grace, all gifts, and all blessings. We are merely witnesses to a timeless and extravagant display of wonders. In short, the logo suggests that the grand scheme is not simply about us. Contemplating the creation and apprehending its realities are thus deeply and originally Biblical, counterculture to foundational modern assumptions, and vital for human survival. With environmental and global implications of human actions becoming ever more clear, the validity of Christian spirituality is in the balance. Could there be any more compelling reason to support and treasure what we think of as rural culture?