Tag: growth

Everyday Miracles

The sugar snaps are up! I expected it to happen, even though there have been years when it didn’t. I made plans for their emergence from the ground and their upward growth, but after I plant the seeds, what happens is beyond my control.

Weather, storms, predators, toxins in the ground, so many possible dangers to the little seeds, so many forces which could prevent their growth. But here they are! Bursting from their dried-up pods through the dark soil, and into the sunlight.

I could have chosen not to plant the seeds, knowing there was a chance they wouldn’t sprout. I could look at their growth and consider it a given. (Of course they grew – no mystery here.) But I see God at work in these growing plants.

Where do they get their motivation to grow? What draws them from their shell and transforms them? What makes them reach for the sun? Did they know that such a future awaited them? Do they know even now the bountiful harvest they will one day produce?

Do we?

For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. Ephesians 2:10.

In the darkness of the earth, these seeds surrendered their hard protective coating and let God transform them. They rooted themselves in the fertile soil and reached out beyond their cozy homes. They pushed into the wider world, braving cold temperatures, predators, and weeds.

They are becoming what God intended them to be – healthy, growing, fruit-producing plants.

Not all the seeds make this transformation. There are bald spots in the garden. Perhaps the birds stole the seeds. Perhaps the cardboard meant to suppress weeds had the unintended consequence of suppressing the seed. (Is there a lesson here?) Perhaps the sudden freeze just as they were emerging was too much for the young plant.

I could focus on the bare spots, but I will not. I rejoice in the miracle of healthy sugar snap plants. Soon they will grow and expand. Soon these little plants will grasp the supports around them and pull themselves skyward, filling my garden with healthy plants. At least I pray that will happen.

Because I can’t make it happen, just as I can’t make myself patient and loving. This transformation, this growth is a gift from God, an everyday miracle. Like the flowers on the budding trees, like the greening grass and the transforming dandelions, God is at work in our world in everyday miracles.

In nature and in us, God is at work. He is using the rain, the sunshine, the dirt, and the heat to draw us ever skyward, ever toward the sun, His Son. He is giving us what we need to grow.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new each morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. Lamentations 3:22-26.

The steadfast love of our Lord. New mercies every morning. A God who loves, saves, and provides. Sometimes it is easy to look at the bare spots. Sometimes, I doubt His transforming power. Sometimes, I take his provision for granted. But when I see these growing plants, He reminds me that He is at work in our world, creating everyday miracles.

Love in Christ, Betsy

February Plans

It’s February – time to plan the garden!

The dampness makes the air chillier than I expected. My shoes sink in the soggy earth, and I think of Irish bogs and Louisiana swamps. It feels like January in the South, but I know the temperatures are rising, the sun is staying visible longer, and soon I will need to plant sugar snaps.

I am planting them early (in February) this year because I want to harvest some before I leave town for two weeks in May. Hopefully the weather will cooperate. If the ground is frozen in a few weeks, I will have to wait; get someone else to harvest the peas.

I am working on a better support system for my sugar snap plants. I plan on using a hybrid system of tomato cages, which prevent the vines from attaching to the fence, and a string trellis, which allows them to grow taller without falling over. I have the poles Nick erected years ago. Now I just need to climb a ladder and attach some twine. Once the ground is less soggy. The ladder would sink, and I would fall today. Maybe later in the week, and before I plant the seeds.

The next question is whether to leave the cardboard or pull it up and use weed cloth where I plant the seeds. Supposedly the cardboard will deteriorate over time, but it hasn’t yet. Nick just let the weeds grow with the peas, but I find that unappealing. The cloth works well, but doesn’t reach under the landscape timbers, thus the cardboard, which does. So much planning!

For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Luke 14:28.

Am I thinking this much about growing in my faith? That is what Jesus is talking about in this verse. The one before it makes that clear:

Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. Luke 14:27.

Whoever is not willing to prepare the garden and plant the seeds will not have sugar snaps. Whoever does not control the weeds and support the vines cannot expect a healthy harvest. I am willing to do these things for my garden; am I willing to do them for my faith?

Do I go to the church my friends attend? The one with the music I like? Do I prefer the minister who makes me feel good about myself? Is my relationship with God based on what I can get out of it?

Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” John 6:26.

Am I following Christ for what he can do for me, or am I willing to put in the work to let his Spirit grow eternal fruit in me?

Am I scheduling time to prepare for God’s presence in my life? Am I planning time to study the Bible, pray with others, pray in my closet alone with God?

Have I planned for support? Not just friends who will listen, but friends that will help me grow tall. Friends that will not let me attach to the earthbound fence but encourage me to grow upward. Am I praying for those friends, seeking out such groups, making the investment of time needed to connect to them?

Do I have a plan to keep worldly worries at bay? Or am I going to let the weeds overtake me?

There is joy and a little trepidation in making these plans, making this commitment. I could fail. It could be too hard. Certainly, there are easier paths. But there is nothing like a fresh sugar snap picked from the vine. There is nothing like the love and joy and peace that only comes from following Jesus.

Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. John 6:27.

Won’t you join me in planning?

Love in Christ, Betsy

Buried Garlic

The cold damp air stings my cheeks. Soon it will start to rain, that miserable 40-degree cold rain that signals winter in the South.

The garlic needs to be planted this morning, before the rain, before Christmas. I poke holes in the cardboard and bury my unwrapped cloves in the dirt. The scent of wet dirt fills the air and competes with the tang of the garlic.

Poor little garlic cloves. I have separated them from their families, stripped away all their protective layers, and buried them in the cold, dark earth alone. Do they know this is the only way they can grow and reproduce and expand their presence in the world? Probably not. If they feel, they feel vulnerable and lonely and exposed. Perhaps they are scared and doubt that what held true for previous generations will still hold true for them. Will God turn them into big, beautiful garlic bulbs?

Life can be scary sometimes. Occasionally, we are led to do things in direct contrast to what we want to achieve. It makes no sense to us. Sometimes, to become a beautiful gift to the world, we must strip ourselves of our protective layers and sit alone in the dark for a while.

Think of the nine months when the creator of the universe grew in Mary’s womb, subject to her diet, her sleep patterns, her movements, and her health. Think of the caterpillar hidden in a confined cocoon. Time and God alone will make the transformation, create the growth, enable the blessing to break free.

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Matthew 17:1-2.

Sometimes what we see is not all there is, even within ourselves. God can transfigure even garlic cloves into what they have the potential to be. He transfigured Jesus to show His radiant glory, and He can transfigure us to share that glory with others. He can turn us into our best selves, if only we take the time to be alone with Him.

I was in a centering prayer group for years until it disbanded. Now, I have found a new one, and I marvel at the blessing it brings. Just to sit in the presence of God in silence for twenty minutes. No demands, no wishes, no praises even, just silence in the presence of the almighty and loving God. I sense His Spirit within me needs this communion. I sense I need this vulnerable and exposed time alone with my Savior.

Some of you may feel your life is on the spin cycle. Perhaps the washer is shaking with the load. Turn it off for a few minutes. Just stop and sit in silence with your friend Jesus for a little while. It may feel scary. You may doubt that God will do for you what He has done for previous generations. You may feel vulnerable and exposed.

Have faith, dear friend. Just as the garlic needs this time in the dark, you may need this time for God to transform you into your best self, a gift to the world.

And the one who is seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also, he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Revelation 21:5.

Christmas is a week from today. Too often it is marked by stress and activity and chaos and travel and eating and drinking. Take a moment to strip away your protective layer, poke a hole in your veneer, and sit alone in the dark with God. You may not see the results for a while, but God will use that moment, and any more you give Him, to make you into something new.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Joy of Discovery

The sun sits high in the clear October sky. The morning frost has burned away; the browning leaves release their grip and flutter to the ground. A perfect afternoon to work in the garden. I have an hour or two before the game starts.

My garlic bulbs arrived the other day. It’s too early to plant them, but it is time to prepare the space for them, to continue preparing the garden for winter.

As I pull up the weeds, the tangy scent of garlic confronts me. I pull up a green shoot hidden among the brown weeds, A tiny garlic bulb! I pull the weeds more carefully. Are these wild onions or very baby garlic? Suddenly this necessary task has become a treasure hunt. I have the sense that God has hidden these treasures for me, just for the joy it brings me to find them.

How true this is on a grander scale. We as people love to look for and discover things. And there is so much to discover! Look at the skies and all the celestial bodies. Consider the oceans and the vast landscapes and living creatures they contain. Concentrate on a patch of your yard and see the life, the ecosystem, the drama played out in miniature there.

It’s like God is playing peek-a-boo. Like He has hidden a gift for us to find.

The kingdom of God is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid, then in his joy he goes and sell all that he has and buys it. Matthew 13:44.

Scientists spend their lives looking for and finding extraordinary things. As I age, I often find myself resistant to new discoveries, new inventions, new anything. My brain is full. But what scientists are discovering is fascinating. It fills me with wonder and awe and a renewed respect for the brilliant creativity of our God.

Trees communicate with each other. They protect themselves, teach their young, honor some dead and ignore others. They coordinate efforts to erect defenses for their community.

Slime mold will seek out the best way through a maze to food, testing and abandoning dead ends. Scientists have used stimuli to “teach” slime new patterns of behavior which it has passed onto later generations.

Anyone who has ever had a pet knows that animals can be clever, manipulative, demanding, grateful, and loving. They scheme, they interact, and they grieve.

We have known for a long time that animals live in community with each other. Even “small-minded” animals like bees and ants have complicated social structures. Now it seems that plant life does as well.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8-9.

What an amazing world God created! And how wonderful that He imbued us with curiosity, an eagerness to seek and search and uncover. How perfect that He created us to rejoice in discovery; that He gave us such a complicated world to discover.

Is it true that the more we know, the more we realize we don’t know. Thousands of people study genes and diseases and plants and animals and stars and weather and oceans. On a grand scale and on a miniscule scale, our world is a fascinatingly complex place.

Even my backyard holds secrets yet to be discovered. Maybe my brain isn’t as full as I think it is. If a surprise garlic can fill me with joy, what else is there to discover?

For the lord is a great God, and a great king above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also. The sea is his, for he made it, and the dry land, which his hands have formed. O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker! Psalm 95:3-6.

Happy Hunting!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Peppers

September has arrived and my garden is showing its fall colors!

I see the brown of the dead and dying plants, but also the vibrant hues of the bell peppers, red and orange and yellow.

I am so grateful for these hardy plants that withstood the summer heat and are still growing in my garden. They remind me that God has a time and a season for all fruit.

I love the sugar snaps that come in the spring, encouraging me to keep the garden going. I love the new fruit emerging on the vines and stalks. I love the garlic and basil, the cucumbers and tomatoes that grow throughout the summer. And I love these peppers who transition me into autumn.

It is a beautiful day. Morning clouds have dissipated, and a clear blue sky stretches from the tops of trees to green lawns. The birds call to each other and those pesky squirrels scamper across the yard. I pull some weeds and cut some basil. The fragrant scents fill my senses. What a blessing to spend just a few minutes everyday soaking in God’s gifts in nature.

For what can be know about God 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 though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. Romans 1:19-20.

Nature constantly reminds me of God’s creativity and His love of beauty. So many different plants and trees and flowers and blossoms and fruits and seeds. All with their own seasons and habitats and needs. The details of a flower petal, the variety of fruits, the interconnectivity of living things – they all bear witness to a creator who far exceeds our limited capabilities. And yet this same God cares enough to give us a variety of tastes and smells and colors, perhaps just for enjoyment, perhaps also for His own.

The skies proclaim His glory but this little patch of garden in my backyard does, too. It has persevered through unseasonal heat and unusual cool. Some of it has faded, some of it has died, and some lives on, still producing, still growing, still healthy.

There are some former interests that are fading in my life. There are some that have died. But others continue, even thrive, producing new and varied fruit. I have done no needlepoint this year, but I published a book. I have yet to harvest a tomato, but I have perfected a pesto recipe. I have thriving fig and raspberry plants. My garlic was successful enough to encourage me to plant again this fall.

Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land I will show you.” Genesis 121:1.

God has not asked me to leave my country or my kindred, but He has led me to some new places, some new interests, some new avocations. He has shown me new things. He has grown peppers of various colors in the September of my life.

Even more, God is teaching me how to continue to grow, continue to learn, continue to produce even in the autumn of my life. He has taught me that the garden can produce even in the winter. Perhaps I will be able to as well.

What a marvelous God we have! What a blessing that He shows us His eternal power and divine nature in the things He has made, even the simple things like red and orange and yellow bell peppers.

If you missed it – I have published a book, Garden Devotions, which can be ordered through Barnes and Nobles, Amazon, or the link found in the menu at the top of this page. If you are willing, leave a review! Many thanks.

Love in Christ, Betsy

No Harvest

I tell myself to persevere, but I am tempted to give up. Predators have stolen my tomatoes once again, despite the bird netting, despite the fence, despite the marigolds, despite the hot sauce. My harvest basket remains empty and despair creeps in.

Why did I ever think I could grow tomatoes? Nick could grow them. We had surplus tomatoes every year. We gave them away to anyone who would take them. I have not harvested any this year except the little cherry ones. I recognize I should be grateful for these little gems. Just as I was grateful for my one cucumber last week.

I should focus on my abundant basil, the peppers growing larger every day, the success of the sugar snaps and garlic earlier. I have so much to be thankful for, why does the lack of large red tomatoes depress me?

The growing season isn’t even over. My tomato plants are still green. They still have blossoms and little green tomatoes. I can redouble my efforts to protect them from whoever is stealing them, but I have lost any expectation of a ripe tomato.

Sometimes, things just don’t turn out like we wanted them to, expected them to.

I’ve been digging deep into the story of Joseph from Genesis. God gave him a dream of leadership, then his brothers sold him into a foreign country as a slave. Talk about life not living up to your expectations! Perhaps I am projecting his imagined despair on my garden troubles. Certainly, the absence of red tomatoes pales in comparison.

But the question remains the same. How do we, how do I, respond?

My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance, and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4.

And the only way my endurance will grow to have its full effect is if I endure things. Like a barren garden. Because a life without tomatoes is nothing compared to a life without Christ. I must take this challenge and learn from it, grow from it, endure it, give thanks for it even.

This is difficult because I don’t yet know what exactly I am supposed to be learning, if in fact I am supposed to be learning anything at all. Perhaps to not expect to succeed at everything? Perhaps to be grateful for what I do have instead of focusing on what I don’t? Perhaps to learn to persevere, endure in the face of failure?

When anger and condemnation arise in me do I consider myself a failure as a follower of Christ? When I see others falling short of a bountiful crop of spiritual fruit, do I doubt their motives, their commitment, their faith? I still have a garden, even if others have tomatoes and I do not. I am still a gardener. Tomatoes are still growing in my garden. I am just not getting to harvest them. They are not benefiting me personally. How vain to consider it loss if I do not benefit. Isn’t God concerned with all His creation?

Perhaps the fruit you are bearing isn’t benefiting you either. Perhaps God is growing it in you to benefit someone else. Perhaps that is the purpose of all the fruit we bear.

Or He may just be teaching me to endure. If Christ is our model and the perfect reflection of God, consider how much He endured – abandonment, torture, crucifixion, death. God has endured humanity’s failure, betrayal, resistance, refusal to believe and obey. He endures our fruitlessness to this day.

God has not given up on me or you or anyone else in the world. I will not give up on my garden. I will love it and care for it and tend to it. And I will thank God for teaching me to endure.

The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some would consider slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Rain

As I step out the door the air meets me like a blanket, thick and heavy. Just moving through the dense atmosphere causes the molecules to turn to water on my arms. It’s going to rain. Any minute the humidity will increase one more percent and the water will become too heavy for the air and clouds to hold.

I walk quickly, since I am not earthy enough to garden in the rain. A cucumber has been slowly growing on my dying vines. Every day I check its thickness, its color, its length, and pray no animal has taken it in the night. It is still there. Stubby but turning light. I pick it, amazed and grateful that my cucumber vines have put forth such a grand effort in their dying days.

Perhaps the coming rains will bring new life to this old vine. Perhaps the rain will cool the ground and air and make life easier for these precious plants. Perhaps not. This is God’s call. I don’t control the weather.

My tomatoes are recovering from their previous attack. The netting seems to be working for now. Each plant has small green orbs sucking in moisture and nutrients through the branches. Soon rain will supplement the city water I send them through the soaker hose. Hopefully the rain will last long enough to fill the underground reservoirs, to bring the grass in the yard back to life, to bring the music back to my creek.

The rain starts by the time I get to my peppers. They are healthy and green, bearing tiny fruit. When the peppers turn vibrant red and orange and yellow, I will pick them. Such hardy warriors.

Unwilling to stand in the rain, I scan the basil, the raspberry, and the fig from afar. I should harvest more basil soon, but not today. The fruit plants look healthy. No doubt this rain will help them as well.

I turn my face for a moment up to the sky and feel the gentle drops, grateful for it bringing life, grateful for my cucumber.

This is not a storm, blown in by strong winds and darks clouds in a sunny sky. This is one big cloud filling the sky and reaching as low as my yard. There is no wind so I am hoping the cloud will stay and soak my garden, my yard, the earth with water for hours. Perhaps even cool us off a bit, although that is a lot to ask for in late July.

This is just life. I tend the garden. Some seasons are hard on the garden, some seasons are hard on the gardener. God sends heat. God sends rain. It is only through Him, His life-giving, life-sustaining Spirit, that anything grows at all.

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:4-5.

Apart from Christ, apart from God, I can do nothing. I can’t grow; I can’t bear fruit. Even the fruit growing in my garden is beyond my control. What then is my role as a gardener? As a follower of Christ, a believer?

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. John 15:7.

Lord, thank you for the rain. May it help the garden bear fruit. Thank you for the rain in my life. May it help me bear fruit for you, fruit that glorifies you.

And this is my prayer for each of you as well. May God grow His fruit in your life.

Love in Christ, Betsy

In Secret

The tall green stalks are brown and falling to the ground. It is too hot, and they are too old to stand tall and green any longer.

This is good news. These dying plants means the garlic bulbs are ready to harvest.

When I planted the cloves last fall, the instructions indicated that they would sleep all winter, start to grow in the spring and be ready for harvest in late summer. I think they were written for a different climate. My garlic grew all winter. Now they have reached maturity.

Our warmer weather has left me with smaller garlic bulbs than might have grown further north, but they have grown. A bulb of four or five cloves for each single clove I buried. And all with very little effort on my part.

I couldn’t even see the growth happening. Unlike the rest of my garden, this garlic grew in secret.

In happens that way in life sometimes. We can’t see what is happening out of sight. What we do see, the tall green stalks, may wither and die. It is not until we uproot the plant that we discover the delicious reward that God has given us in secret.

But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Matthew 6:6.

The growth on my tomatoes is obvious. They are taller, dotted with blossoms, yielding green fruit that is getting larger and lighter by the day. Sometimes life is like that as well. The rewards for our effort seem instantaneous, obvious. Sometimes, God’s Spirit nudges us to action, and when we act, joy erupts. We make that call; the person needed to hear from someone. They are happy; we are happy. Everyone involved is blessed by the presence of God in the little things of life.

But sometimes life is more like the garlic bulbs. It doesn’t look good. It looks like a dying plant. The good news comes in the uprooting.

I pull up the first bulb. The ground releases it easily. The bite of garlic fills my nose, mixed with a hint of wet soil. What a beautiful sight!

Beside it grows the basil, and as I pinch off the maturing leaves, I know pesto in in my future.

My mouth waters in anticipation.

God is planning a marvelous feast for us. Some of the ingredients are bright and beautiful and out in the light for all to see. Like my tomatoes and pepper, they thrive on the sunlight and show their bright colors proudly. Some parts of the feast, like the basil, fill the air with their sweet aroma. And some are being grown in secret, out of sight, waiting for the day when God reveals them.

When I look at my garden, I see the marvelous diversity and inclusiveness of God. He created so many different plants that bless us in so many ways. Some with luscious fruit, some with edible roots, some with tasty leaves. And the best recipes combine them.

I mix the garlic and basil from my garden with the nuts and olive oil from someone else’s garden and add cheese some cow provided. I was given a new food processor for Christmas and the pesto-making is easy. What wonderful gifts! What an amazing example of how the world can work together to produce something marvelous.

The garlic reminds me to never underestimate what God is doing in secret, out of my sight.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish the thing which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:8-11.

Betsy

Faithfulness

Faithfulness dictates that I go out to the garden every morning, whether I feel like it or not. Faithfulness means I pull weeds even though it hurts my hands and wrists and shoulders. Faithfulness leads me to water the garden every day it doesn’t rain, even when I want to be doing something else. Faithfulness leads me daily to carefully rearrange growing branches so that they will be supported.

I do these activities because I have faith that they will lead to healthier, more productive plants. These are the daily little activities that constitute gardening. Sure, there are big activities like fencing and planting and managing the harvest, but these little, daily tasks are what ensure the garden thrives.

How like God to encourage and reward our daily little acts of faithfulness.

Life is full of daily little things that enhance our lives and keep us healthy. Brush your teeth; wash your hands; clean the dishes; wash your clothes. Often these daily little tasks exhaust us – not because they are difficult but because they are tedious and repetitive and endless. Their reward is rarely obvious. Our only motivation is what happens if we don’t do them.

My teeth rot: my family falls sick; roaches and mice infest my kitchen; I’m wearing stained and smelly clothes. The weeds overtake my plants; my cucumbers die from lack of water; the tomato branches break off under the weight of any fruit they grow.

There are consequences to a lack of faithfulness in the small things.

Am I reading God’s Word every day? Am I spending time in quiet prayer with Him? Am I thanking God for all the wonderful things He has gifted to us? Sunshine and rain and friends and family and homes and cars and electricity and food? Am I allowing His Spirit space to grow in me? Am I watering and supporting that growth?

His master said to him, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things, enter into the joy of your master.” Matthew 25:21.

Experience and science have long taught us that we adapt to our surroundings. Spouses tend to look like each other after a while; employees dress like their boss; animals evolve camouflaging colors and snouts and beaks for better dining. I wonder if we could adapt to better reflect Jesus if we spent more time with him. If I spent hours with Him every day, would I begin to talk like Him? React like Him? Love like He loves?

My daily treks to the garden, my constant exposure to growing plants, has taught me things that google can’t. Being in the garden every day turns my knowledge into a reality that I can touch and feel and smell. Knowing about gardening is not the same as gardening. Knowing about God is not the same as knowing God.

You have to DO it. Do the little tasks that faithfulness demands. Faithfulness can feel tedious. Faithfulness calls us to action when our emotions prefer inaction. Water the plants, pull the weeds, brush your teeth, wash the dishes, read the Bible, get on your knees. Being faithful in these little things brings us face to face with the world we envision – the fruitful garden, the healthy home, the presence of God’s Spirit.

And as we draw closer, as we spend time on faithful tasks, we begin to embody that vision and move closer to making it real.

And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another, for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18.

Brush your teeth today, wash the dishes and thank God for all that He is doing for you. Be faithful and enter into His joy. Look to God, and seeing Him, be transformed into His image.

Betsy

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