Month: April 2024

Something to Hold

The sugar snap plants are about knee high. Every day they try to pull themselves higher and higher, away from the dirt and closer to the sun.

Fragile tendrils reach out into the air searching for something they can grab. When they find the metal ribs of the bean poles and cages, they wrap themselves around and pull the growing plant in that direction. They look dainty and delicate, but holding on tightly, they pull their large plants along with them.

On occasion, they find weeds or bits of straw in closer proximity than the metal supports. As the tendrils grab hold, they pull the plant toward the ground instead of toward the sun. I have to be very careful not to damage the plant as I loosen its grip on the weed and transfer the tendrils to the closest support.

I am amazed at the strength and tenacity of these little tendrils, searching for something to hold, something to wrap themselves around and cling to with all their might. How brave they are to extend themselves into space, looking, searching. How I pray they find the sturdy metal supports and not the dead straw or low-lying weeds.

From there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find him if you search after him with all your heart and soul. Deuteronomy 4:29.

For everyone who asks, receives, and everyone who searches, finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Matthew 7:8.

Am I sending out tendrils looking for God, or for recognition? Am I searching for friends and their acceptance, or the friendship of the Spirit? Is it financial success I seek, or the praise of my Lord?

How easy it is sometimes to attach ourselves to dead straw or low-lying weeds instead of the strong supports available. Sometimes these things are closer, easier. Attaching to them takes less effort than extending ourselves into what looks like empty space, trusting that we will find something dependable there, trusting that God is there to support us.

When we have hold of one beam of support, the next one looks a long way away. The upward growth of my plants is not easy. They must constantly send out tendrils reaching for the next rung of support. When they find it, these tendrils must pull the ever-increasing weight of the plant up to its new height.

What a beautiful example for Christian living.

Am I constantly reaching out to grow closer to God? Am I grasping onto the firm supports of Biblical knowledge, pastoral support, and Godly fellowship? Am I allowing the tentative, delicate tendrils of faith to pull me out of the dirt and closer to the Son?

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Hebrews 12:1-2.

The framework of support is available. God is here among us. He may look like He’s far away, but if we reach out our fragile arms in faith, we will find Him.

And if we wrap our arms around Him, if we hold onto God, to Jesus and His Spirit, our whole lives can be lifted higher. Just as the sun gives my sugar snaps the energy to grow, so does the Son give us the ability to grow in our faith.

But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. John 1:12-13.

That is something to reach toward, my friends. That is something to seek and find. That is something to hold.

Betsy

Fertilzer

This time of year, I don’t need to water my garden very often; God waters it regularly. When I do need to, I add diluted Miracle Gro. I don’t know if this makes my garden non-organic, but the plant food is not toxic. At least it’s no more toxic than organic fertilizer, natural fertilizer. Because we all know what true fertilizer is and where it comes from and the diseases it can carry.

One of the benefits of living in a flood plain is that my soil gets renewed every few years, replenishing the nutrients lost to the plants. It’s the upside to getting water in my garage.

Around the turn of the last century, we went through a prolonged period without flooding. Our soil got depleted. Wary of using too much store-bought plant food, Nick purchased a trailer load of manure. We let it sit over the winter, let it mellow so it wouldn’t burn the plants.

What I remember was the stench. And the sense that something mysterious and creepy was happening under that tarped mound in the back yard. I don’t remember ever getting near it. In the spring, Nick shoveled it into the garden and tilled it into the soil.

Until one hundred years ago, that pile of fermenting, noxious yuckiness was what fertilizer was.

Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and I still find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” Luke 13:6-9.

Do you think he grinned when He said this? I imagine the rough fishermen laughing.

Is that what we need at times in our lives when we are not producing His fruit? Do we need our loving and patient gardener to dig a hole around us and fill it with … manure?

Jesus was not giving gardening advice. He had just told his listeners to repent or perish; He’d repeated it. (Luke 13:3,5). He might have grinned at what it takes to make some people repent, but unless that manure worked the fruitless tree would be cut down.

When we are surrounded by noxious yuckiness, when the stench greets us each day, when the tarp in the yard cannot hide what’s under it, it is sometimes hard to see God at work in our lives.

Manure can be toxic, deadly. To plants, animals, and humans. But in the right hands, this filth can be transformed into fertilizer; this poop can help my plants grow, maybe even call me to repentance and save my life.

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purposes. Romans 8:28.

Even floods and piles of manure.

God using ‘bad’ things to call us to repentance does not make them ‘good’ things; floods and manure can still kill you. But they can also bring you closer to God, give you fresh insights and resources, provide nutrients essential for the bearing of fruit.

That’s why Jesus can instruct us to rejoice when we are persecuted (Matthew 5:12). That’s why James can ask us to consider trials a joy (James 1:2). That’s why Paul can encourage us to rejoice in our suffering (Romans 5:3).

Nothing is waste in God’s economy. He can use all that yuckiness, all that deadly, toxic mess in our lives, to bring us closer to Him, to bear fruit for His kingdom.

You can’t always see it when you are in the middle of it but give thanks to God. He is drawing you closer to Him.

Betsy

Come to the Garden

Come along with me to the garden.

See the emerging plants bursting into the daylight from the dark soil.,

Smell the dirt, the dank aroma of vital minerals placed at our fingertips. Smell the heavy sweetness of the flowering trees and the gentle whiffs of honey from the bushes.

Hear the symphony of birds calling for each other, sharing the news, searching for food, shelter and friends.

Feel the warmth from the sun heat your skin, the gently breeze, the blinding light.

In the distance, mowers and sirens and honking horns remind me that I am in the midst of a city; others are rushing about their day, busy with their lives, desperate or hurried or hard at work.

But here in the garden the young plants reach for the metal supports like young children reaching for a parent’s hand. Listening to some innate urging, the fragile tendrils cling to the poles, wrap themselves around them and pull themselves toward the sun.

Will you help me help them? Adjust the nozzle setting on the hose and depress the handle. A gentle mist sprays the sugar snaps who bend under the pressure. The green leaves shudder as the dirt darkens and pools collect around the stalks. The needy ground quickly pulls all the moisture out of sight, down to hidden roots. As the pressure of the sprayer lessens, the plants snap back to their upright posture, tiny droplets breaking free from their leaves. They seem happy.

Walk with me along the garden to my new plants. The fig and raspberry stalks are struggling to adapt. I fear it is cooler than they like it, but I water and encourage them. It’s still early; they may yet grow. Turning the nozzle to a stream of water, I soak the base of the plants, pausing to let the soil absorb it, then soaking it again.

Changing the nozzle setting back to spray, I survey my determined garlic plants. Can you smell the scapes when the water hits them? Just a hint of garlic? Or is that my imagination? If I touch the leaves I can smell garlic on my hands, reminding me of the basil. Do all leaves smell?

The aroma of cut grass wafts from the neighbor’s yard, kicked up by the mower. Are we insensitive to the scents around us, until they are cut, bruised, touched? What other plants in my yard can speak to my senses like the garlic, the grass? See the tall onion grass growing there?

Look across my yard. Tiny dots of white and purple and yellow flowers cover my yard like dabs of paint on a green canvas. Tall onions and balls of dandelion seeds rise above the mix. Soon the mowers will come and tame their enthusiasm, but they will grow again.

Winding the hose back into its resting spot, I ask you to look over the rest of my garden. Soon I will plant cucumbers at the far-right end of the garden. All this space on the right will be for the tomatoes. I plan on planting peppers here in the middle.

It’s all just cardboard covered ground right now, until the chance of a freeze has passed. But I can see a growing garden. I have seen it for thirty years. I know what it looks like, what it can look like. I know the dangers, the risks, the challenges. But I also know the joy of fruit ripening, of juicy tomatoes and crispy cucumbers eaten the day I pick them.

Won’t you come with me to the garden today?

God is already here. He created this ground, these plants, those birds, that sky. He created you and me. He gave us an innate desire to grow, to reach out for others and for Him.

For what can be known is plain to them because God has shown it to them. Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible thought they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. Romans 1:19-20.

Come along with me to the garden.

Betsy

Let it Rain.

God is watering my garden today.

A gentle rain soaks all the seeds in the ground, refills the hidden aquifers deep in the soil, encourages all the trees and bushes and flowers and grasses to grow, as well as the plants in my garden.

What an amazing gift God gives us and the earth for the sustaining of life.

We take rain so for granted; sometimes we even complain about it. Sometimes this life-giving rain can take lives as well, but we know without it there would be no life.

But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven, for he makes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Matthew 5:45.

God wants us all to live, my sugar snaps and the crabgrass that grows beside them. He sends sun and rain on them both.

He calls for us to be just as generous with our affections, to not reserve our prayers only for those with whom we agree, our friends, and our families. God loves all people and sends life-giving water to sustain us all.

I love the rain, probably because I love water. Living in a flood plain, I am aware of the problems rain can cause, and yet… these creeks which can overflow attract wildlife and create beauty. Large trees, homes for birds and raccoons and squirrels, reach through the soil to find the flowing creek beds. Frogs and minnows dart in the shallows. The gentle gurgle and lapping meet me as I leave my home.

All because God is watering my garden today. All because He loves us enough to create a world in which water falls from the sky.

In past generations he allowed all the nations to follow their own ways; yet he has not left himself without a witness in doing good – giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons and filling you with food and your hearts with joy. Acts 14:16-17.

Without water, my garden couldn’t survive. I have gone out the last few days and watered the sugar snaps, the garlic, the fig and raspberry shoots. How wonderful that God is watering them today, as well as watering the rest of my yard as well. What a joy to see everything turning green, filled with a desire to grow, to flower, to bear fruit.

Could this rain refresh me, encourage me to grow and flower?

I drink a lot of water, have ever since I was a child. It sustains me, it may keep my healthy, but it only provides for my corporal needs.

Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14.

Better than a gentle soaking rain. Better than a flowing creek. A source of life unlike any other found on earth. A source of purposeful, meaningful, joy-filled, eternal life. Springing up in me.

We join with the Samaritan woman in asking “Where do you get this water?” (John 4:11)

On the last day of the festival, the great day, while Jesus was standing there, he cried out, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” John 7:37-38.

God is watering my garden today; His word is watering my thoughts; His Spirit is watering my soul, creating life in me.

Let it rain!

Betsy