Tag: hope

Unexpected Harvest

I arrived back home from my trip late at night. It was too dark to see what had transpired in my yard while I was away. Storms had ravaged areas to the east; family members still had no power. I live in a flood plain, had the creek overflowed? Flooding waters had destroyed my garden in the past, bending the fencing, floating the landscape timbers, uprooting plants. What would the morning light show?

Tomatoes! My one yellow tomato plant is laden with them. Three separate red tomato plants bear fruit. These amazing plants, which brought me nothing in the summer months, are bringing me red and yellow tomatoes in October!

What an unexpected harvest.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21.

As if God wanted to remind me that it is He, not I, who produces tomatoes. I may have turned off the soaker system, but He brings rain. I may have determined it too late in the year, but He brings heat and sunshine. I may have prepared my sugar snap garden for spring, but He is still at work among the tomatoes.

What a joy to have a tomato sandwich, to share this abundance with my friends, to savor the gifts of the garden.

As so many of us fret and worry about international conflicts, the looming election, declining church attendance, shifting cultural norms, political uncertainty, I encourage you to join me in praising God for the unexpected harvests He is producing in our lives.

Has someone been kind to you? Has a stranger helped you? Have you helped a stranger? Has God enriched your life with friends, with shelter, with aromatic scents and flavorful tastes? My guess is that God has prepared a surprise harvest for you as He prepared one for me. We may not see it immediately. It may be dark outside. We may be too tired right now to look. But in the light of day, what a gift greets us.

In fact, what a gift greets us each time we turn our eyes from the problems surrounding us and focus instead on God, on Jesus, on His Spirit’s presence in our lives. The problems are there, and we are called to care for our neighbors, share their burdens, love justice, feed the hungry and provide shelter and food for those in need. We are called to work in the garden. But instead of focusing on our inevitable inability to solve these problems, we can rejoice in God’s presence amid them. We can give thanks for each little tomato He grows.

I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world! John 16:33.

Take a moment today to look for where God is blessing you today. Lift your eyes and look for those ripe tomatoes. See the blessings of friends, or food, or comfort. Understand the gift of being needed, even when it’s challenging. Embrace the gift of rest when it is offered. God is producing an amazing harvest in our lives. Often an unexpected harvest. He invites us to share in the feast of the harvest, to join him at table, to share in His joy. Won’t you join Him?

Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me. Revelation 3:20.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Effort and Opportunity

I look out my window and smile. What a difference a little bit of effort makes! For weeks the overgrown sugar snaps garden chided me. Every time I went to the garden I could feel the weight of an unfinished task, an unmet obligation.

The job was difficult. Overgrown weeds and dead plants entangled the fence posts and supports. The crabgrass was so entrenched that it took several passes with the tiller to clear the space. I tilled the space now, in the fall, so the microbes and beneficial bugs will return by spring. I covered it with cardboard so the weeds hopefully will not.

Now that space makes me proud. I made the effort and succeeded in clearing the space. Yay for me! I could not have done it without my brother-in-law’s help. I could not have done it without clear weather and the proper tools. But it is so encouraging that I was able to make the effort and complete the task.

Perhaps when I was younger and stronger and more energetic, I would not have been so gratified simply to have put forth the effort. Perhaps there were times in my life when I didn’t appreciate the obstacles many of us face in simply putting forth the effort.

There is a resistance that rears its ugly head and tells us not to try. There is a God who tells us to lean on Him for strength.

For nothing will be impossible with God. Luke 1:37.

I can do all things through him who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13.

Even if it’s little things like clearing the sugar snap garden, getting it ready for next year.

Now that space is ready for what is to come!

Now, when I look out my window or walk by my garden, I see that prepared garden space, and the inherent opportunity excites me. Now I want to prepare more of the garden. I want to prepare the space for the garlic. I know I can tackle the weeds along the fence line of the rest of the garden. I’ve done it for the sugar snaps.

No longer do I see the overgrown areas of my garden as exhausting and overwhelming obligations; I see them as exciting opportunities for future growth.

And if that is true in my garden, is it not also true in my life?

When I prove to myself that the small tasks God has given me are not too much for my feeble frame, I begin to look forward to the next tasks He sends me. He has sustained me. He has given me the strength and ability to accomplish this little thing, what else can He accomplish through me?

Suddenly, my world feels full of possibility. If God gives me a job to do, I can be confident that He will enable me to do it. If I am following Jesus, putting forth the effort to love my neighbors, love my enemies, put others needs ahead of my own, then God can and will use me to accomplish His ends. He will give me the strength and help and direction I need.

If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything we need?… No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. Romans 8:31-32, 37.

All this from a cleared garden space! Isn’t God amazing?

What overwhelming obligation do you face today? With God’s empowering Spirit, you can turn it into an exciting opportunity. I know. I’ve just done it. You can too.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Please join me as I sign my new book, Garden Devotions. Copies will be available to purchase at both events:

Sunday October 6th 9:30-10:30 am – First Presbyterian Church, Nashville or

Tuesday October 22nd 10-12 am – Logos Bookstore 2136 Bandywood Dr.

Obligations and Entanglements

As I wander my garden and check on my still growing tomatoes, the space where the sugar snaps grew taunts me. Why have you abandoned me? Why have you left me in such a mess? How will you be able to grow sugar snaps here next year, if you do not take care of me now?

I harvested my last sugar snaps in early June and the space where they grew sits untouched since then. By summer, I had turned my attention to cucumbers and tomatoes and peppers and basil and garlic and new fruit plants.

Now, my spring garden is overwhelmed with weeds, feral, abandoned. Soon it will be cold, and the ground will be hard. Not long after that I will plant my seeds again. Now is the time to address this space. Now is the time to prepare the ground for winter and next year’s crop. But “now” already has a lot of demands on it.

I find myself once more reviewing my obligations, prioritizing my commitments, planning my time to align with what God is calling me to do. I can’t write a blog on gardening if I do not tend to my garden.

Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him. Luke 14:29.

I yank the bean supports free from the dead sugar snaps and live grasses. I dig out the old cardboard, separate the fence from the poles and remove the timbers that border the space. Even with help, I find clearing the space of entanglements exhausting.

The old plants and growing weeds cling to the supports, the fencing, the cardboard, the timbers. I grab and pull and cut and separate. Slowly, I clear the space.

Even with the cool breeze, sweat runs into my eyes and down my back. My arms are sore and slimy and scratched. I arch my back and rotate my shoulders and wonder if ridicule might be easier.

But I have promised myself that I will grow sugar snaps next spring. To fulfill that obligation, I must rid this space of its entanglements.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a crowd 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. Hebrews 12:1.

And if this is true in garden, it is also true in my life.

I find myself immersed in activity and overwhelmed by my obligations. Even worse, I know they are self-imposed. No one’s health or safety depends on me. I have made commitments to others and myself; set goals that I want to attain. I still find them overwhelming. And the entanglements that accompany them are exhausting. But to build a fine structure or finish the race or maintain my garden, I need to meet my obligations and rid myself of the entanglements.

This is the hard part of gardening. It can be the hard part of life and faith as well, leaving us feeling exhausted. But good news is at hand. We live in faith. When we persevere, when we act in preparation for a future we may not see, when we look forward to what God is going to do in our lives, I believe God smiles.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1.

(Abram) believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness. Genesis 15:6.

So, I get to work, meeting my obligations and ridding my life and garden of unwanted entanglements. I till the ground and uproot the weeds. I may not see the end results while I am engrossed in the labor, but I have faith that God does.

Love in Christ, Betsy

September Tomatoes

I went out of town for a week and guess what greeted me on my return? September Tomatoes.

The plant is well into old age. Some branches are brown and wilted. Most of her neighbor plants have died already. But look! Tomatoes!

This little plant amazes me. She is still working hard to produce fruit, to share her vitality with the world, to provide for others. She has not called it quits just because some of her neighbors have. It may sound silly to be impressed by a tomato plant, but I am. More accurately, I am impressed by how God is continuing to produce fruit in her.

Do you think God is teaching us something in this?

What is considered “past our prime” is changing. And not just because I am aging! A generation or two ago, a seventy-year-old person was old. Now there are seventy- and eighty-year-olds who are very active and vibrant. They travel the world, take yoga and Pilates, publish poetry books, care for their grandkids, find romance, and volunteer extensively.

The righteous flourish like a palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. In old age they still produce fruit; they are always green and full of sap, showing that the Lord is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him. Psalm 92:12-15.

Of course, not all of us live into our seventies and eighties. Some of us are gathered to God much earlier in life. Most of my tomato plants have already died. Not because they were unrighteous. Being right with God does not guarantee us a long life, but it does promise us a life of bearing fruit for Him, an abundant life.

I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. John 15:11.

My eyes brighten, my lips push up my cheeks, a laugh burbles from my mouth. Joy. In this beautiful, simple thing. Hope. For myself, for others, for situations that feel hopeless. It’s not too late. As long as your feet are planted in the rich soil of God’s word, as long as the life-giving water of prayer flows, as long as the Son shines, there is joy and hope and love.

God is so good.

I have a favor to ask. If you have bought my new book Garden Devotions, thank you! If you liked it, please leave a review on Amazon. This is how they decide which books to recommend to browsing shoppers. The space to leave a review of the book is a long scroll down the page, but it is there at the bottom. If you would like to order the book it is available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and through the link provided in the menu at the top of this page.

This book feels like the green tomatoes on my plants. It’s never to late for God to bear new fruit in your life. The evidence in here, right before me. God plants a seed; we nurture it in His word and prayer; He produces fruit; that fruit is available to nourish others. Simple and amazing.

Thank you for joining me in the garden. I am so glad that my gardening days are not over just because it’s September.

Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say, Rejoice. Philippians 4:4.

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

What do I see?

The hour is early, and dew still covers the grass. The sun peeks through the tree line. Soon it will crest the woods and fix its burning gaze on my plants, but for now I can walk my garden in long sleeves. The soaker hose is bringing life-sustaining water, and the plants seem to be enjoying this morning respite from the heat as much as I do.

I approach my tomatoes with trepidation. Are they still there, or has some thief in the night come and stole them? With relief I see the green orbs still attached to their branches. I have yet to harvest a red tomato this year. The heat is crippling my cucumber vines. Each morning, I peruse these plants and harvest nothing. The empty harvest feels personal.

Is there more I should be doing? Did I make a critical mistake earlier? If so, can I correct it? Am I letting other distractions take precedence over my garden? Have I overestimated my abilities as a gardener?

I turn my attention to the basil bush. Bursting with leaves and perfuming the air, it calls for me to reap its bounty. I have pulled up all the garlic and processed it. Peeled, minced and frozen dozens of cloves which are now ready to be used when needed. This may well be the summer of pesto, served with pasta since I have no tomatoes.

The fig and the raspberry grow large and healthy, and my sense of failure begins to ease.

How good God is to give us different plants that fail or thrive in different seasons and in different climates. Biodiversity. If I had only grown cucumbers this year, the heat would have felled my entire crop. If I had only grown tomatoes, the fear of no harvest might be crippling. It could well be that that this is just a year for other things to grow.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the sane Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good, 1 Corinthians 12:4-7.

God is working on me to go out to the garden in expectations of a harvest, in gratitude for what is growing, in praise of His provision. There are green tomatoes on the vine. There is abundant basil. There are blossoms on the pepper plants. It is only mid-July.

I pull some of the weeds that are encroaching on the raspberry bush while the ground is still damp. This I can do. I can keep the weeds from overtaking the plants, even if I can’t keep them out of the garden. I can check the netting for gaps, sprinkle hot sauce around the plants, and try to discourage invaders.

I lift my head and listen to the birds. A small bunny darts from the hedgerow, sees me, and darts back under cover. Bees hover over the clover nearby, and a wasp lands on the pine bark mulch. My yard is alive in the early hours. Soon it will be too hot to spend much time here.

I let the garden, nature, God, speak to my fearful and fretful spirit.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21.

There is a lot of work I can and should do in my garden, but the harvest is ultimately the Lord’s. This is His garden, not mine. I am called to care for His creation and love as He loved, tirelessly, sacrificially, and unselfishly. He is able to accomplish… anything, creation with a word.

My role is to love and serve and look to Him.

Betsy

Nothing Remains The Same

Old age and high temperatures have taken their toll on my sugar snaps. I waited to plant some of my seeds until mid-March, so I might have sugar snaps in June, but it is too warm for them now. Their time has passed. Now, all my attention needs to go to the rest of my garden.

My tomato plants are sporting yellow flowers, promising red fruit in the future. Tiny green orbs are dotting my pepper plants. The cucumbers are claiming the space provided. My garden is growing. Even the fig and raspberry bushes are gaining height and sprouting new leaves, perfumed by the basil nearby.

Whenever I hear something that begins with “If things stay this way,” the gardener in me laughs. Things never stay the same. Nothing ever stays the way it is. God created His universe to be in a constant state of change. Even things that seem permanent to us like mountains and oceans are constantly changing incrementally. We know this. We have known this since childhood. And yet we still strive for permanence.

We strive to make things perfect in some delusion that they might stay that way. We build homes and offices to withstand storms, but we know they are not truly permanent. Ruins from civilizations long gone remind us that structures may outlast their inhabitants, but they will not remain the same.

The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever. Isaiah 40:8.

We long for that permanence like we long for the tree that produces fruit year-round. Because God has planted that image in our soul, an image of lasting permanence, an image of eternity, an image of Himself.

And He reminds me that I cannot achieve this by my own efforts on this earth. He reminds me of this every day as I walk along the garden and see how it has changed since yesterday.

There is a time for everything. It was true when Solomon said it, and it is true today.

I am not going to fret over the loss of my sugar snaps. They had a glorious season, but it is time for other fruits to shine. I will pull a garlic bulb soon to see how they are doing. Little green tomatoes will ripen into red ones. The cucumbers will continue to indulge their appetite for space.

And while I wait for all these changes, I will water and tend my garden daily. I will treasure this garden for bringing me outside every day. I may even pull the weeds that create a border around my growing plants.

These plants remind me that change is not always a bad thing. I do not want my garden to stay as it is right now, as beautiful as it is to me. I want my plants to age and bear fruit, even if it signals their impending death. That is these plants’ purpose.

I don’t want to stay the same forever either. I want to grow and mature and bear fruit, even as I know I am moving ever closer to my demise. I may live thirty more years; I may die today. God cares for me no matter my life span. He loves me and has put me here for a purpose. He loves you and has put you here for a purpose.

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God has prepared before hand to be our way of life. Ephesians 2:8-10.

And that word of God does remain the same, remains as true today as it was when it was written.

O give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 136:26.

Betsy

God’s Gifts

The sun shines brightly over the tree line in the cloudless sky. A gentle breeze keeps the temperature pleasant. Water ripples in the creek but I cannot hear it above the buzz of the cicadas in the hedges. Only the chorus of birdsong rises louder than the constant hum.

I slip on my garden shoes and head to the garden. The clover that passes for grass in my yard is still damp from the overnight dew.

As I draw closer to the sugar snaps, I can see them dangling among the leaves. Short ones, tall ones, skinny ones, fat ones. Beautiful.

Pinching one off the vine, I pull the stringy fiber from their sides, use my fingertips to wipe off any dirt, and pop it in my mouth. Cool to my lips, their sweetness assaults my tongue. A quick crunch and my mouth fills with its nectar. Sweet and crisp and divine. A few satisfying crunches and I reach for another. Food from the gods, well, food from my God.

As I stand there and eat a few more, I am overwhelmed by the bounty. No need to grab the hose, no need to cut or train or pull or labor at all. Just stand here and let these gifts nourish me.

I wonder if this is how God intended the world to be. I wonder if this is how the world was before we mucked it up. Just delicious abundance at our fingertips.

Out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Genesis 2:9.

One of the many evils of war is starvation, not just hunger, starvation. Something almost unheard of in peaceful, affluent America, where obesity, diabetes, and heart disease seem to be the problem.

What a gift it would be if I could transport these sugar snap plants, if they could grow where the bombs drop, and the bullets fly. If only they would grow in the decimated cities where people scramble and hide and starve.

For there shall be a sowing of peace; the vine shall yield its fruit, the ground shall give its produce, and the skies shall give their dew; and I will cause the remnant of this people to possess all these things. Zechariah 8:12.

After a few sugar snaps, I am satisfied. I pick the rest of the ripe ones before they get too big and sour and put them in my pocket. I can share them with my family and friends. They are not starving, but they may need a smile, a laugh, a hug, or an outstretched hand. My outstretched hand will offer sugar snaps, God’s gift to me which I will share with you.

You may not have sugar snaps growing in your yard, but God has given you a gift to share as well. You may have trouble finding a smile today. Some days are like that. But you can stretch out your hand to someone and offer what you do have – a listening ear, a quiet presence, a loving heart.

Take a moment today to revel in the sun shining in the sky, the breeze cooling the air, the birdsong overpowering the cicada buzz. God continues to gift us with such treasures, everything that is pleasant to the sight and good for food. Even when we muck it up, even while there is evil in the world, God continues to provide us with good and beautiful things.

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4.8.

Betsy

This little Seed

Seeds so tiny they look like dirt in my hand. My aging eyes can barely separate them from each other. The package says these could generate 150 3-foot plants. Hmm. My cynical side finds that difficult to believe.

I am trying something new this year. The flower that these seeds grow supposedly repels chipmunks, squirrels and deer. I plan to plant them among the tomatoes in late April. We shall see.

Why do I tamp down my expectations like this? Has God not shown us over thousands of years that He will turn these tiny specks into plants? Has He not shown others just how big the plants these seeds contain can become? I have instructions, directions, testimonies from others; why do I doubt? One thing is for sure: If I don’t plant them, they will remain only seeds.

To look at these little black specks and see a 3-foot plant with white petals and a red center; is that not faith?

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Every tree in my yard started as a seed. Every tree in your yard started as a seed. A seed which looked absolutely nothing like the tree it became. A forest is like a testimony to God’s ability to transform something seemingly dead into something vibrantly alive.

These miniscule seeds in the palm of my hand hold the promise of transforming my garden. Amazing, really. And so common. You can find these packets of hope in every hardware store and garden center in the world. I bought mine from a catalogue with about 1000 varieties of seeds promising an unimaginable harvest.

It’s exciting. These little seeds, these embodiments of hope, energize me at some deep level.

And there’s the sweet pea seeds. I plant them directly into the garden. These seeds look like dried up sweet peas. I’m pretty sure that’s what they are. Fruit from last year’s garden that now appears dead, dried up, lifeless, worthless. But looks can be deceiving.

That dead looking, dried up sweetpea is precious to me. That seed holds the promise of delicious fruit. It doesn’t always work out that way, but while you may see a dried up seed, I see possibility.

The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. I Samuel 16:7b

I have felt like these seeds; tiny, insignificant, useless, past my prime. My cynical nature doubts there is much that can come from me; my fears and doubts tamp down my expectations. But I must fight these fears.

God creates form from nothing (Gen. 1), brings dead bones to life (Ezek. 37), plants an imperishable seed within us (I Peter 1), and promises resurrection (I Cor. 15). Surely He can transform me into a beautiful flower and a fruit bearing garden.

So I plant these seeds. I water them, tend to them, protect them, and support them. I trust God will transform them. He has been faithful in the past, transforming millions of seeds into flowers, plants, and trees. I have faith that He can and will transform these seeds, and me, as well.

Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. I John 3:2

What hope these little seeds carry!

What a blessing that God gave us this every-day, common reminder of His transformative powers. How can I doubt when all around me God is proving His amazing power and gracious love?

It may look like a little seed, but it is so much more.

He said therefore, “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches. Luke 13:18-19

Betsy

Seeds and Sugar Snaps

I look at the packet of seeds and think, “Are you kidding me?” There is no way that these dry little things can bear the yummy looking peas on the cover. If I didn’t have thousands of years of testimony telling me that a plant would grow, I would never believe it. If I didn’t have first-hand experience to the contrary, my cynicism and doubt would keep me from ever planting a seed.

“Don’t be silly, Betsy,” you may say. “There is overwhelming evidence to back up the claims of Ferry-Morse and Burpee.” And yet, so many of the seeds I bury in the ground don’t become sugar snap plants, and some that do become plants never bear fruit. This is universally true of seeds. If not, oak trees and strawberries and pumpkins would cover the earth.

And yet, the only way I will ever get even one sugar snap plant in my backyard is to plant a seed, a seed from this packet which promises so much. That, my friend, is faith.

Cool weather crops, like sugar snaps and lettuces, give me a test run for this faith. I’ll just drop these in to a small portion of my garden space and see if it works; see if Ferry-Morse is giving reliable testimony. I can do this in February or early March, before I have to commit to all that growing tomatoes and cucumbers entail. Those with a greater faith than I can start such summer plants from seeds in their own hothouses. I am going to do a test sample with the sugar snaps in my backyard.

These seed packets excite me somehow. Perhaps because I got off the couch and took my first baby step towards a garden? Perhaps because the seeds herald warmer weather? Perhaps the little step of faith I took buying the seeds creates its own joy; acting in faith often does.

It is as if God gave us seeds so that we could understand what He is doing in our lives and in the world.

And God gave us A LOT of seeds. And it takes A LOT of seeds to get a garden full of sugar snaps. As discouraging as it can be, most seeds do not become fruit-bearing plants. But instead of focusing on the negative aspect of this truth, I choose to focus on the lesson – that I have to sow a lot of seeds to get a healthy sugar snap crop.

Now this I say, He who sows sparingly shall also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully shall also reap bountifully.  2 Cor. 9:6

Jesus, in the parable of the sower (Luke 8:5-8), uses this seed metaphor beautifully. There is so much that I can say about seeds! Looking at this seed packet, however, I am in awe of the indulgent generosity of God. In the parable, surely the sower knew that many of those seeds wouldn’t take, but He sowed them anyway. Should I be following His inefficient ways? Is He calling me to not prejudge who is “fertile ground,” but sow His Word everywhere? Or, as Jesus put it, “if (we) greet only our brothers and sisters, what more are (we) doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?” (Matt. 5:47)

And when I am buying those seed packets, I have to be careful to get the correct seeds. Because the seeds I plant determine the plants I grow. There is a wonderful scene in Second Hand Lions in which they have bought a variety of seed packets labeled incorrectly as okra, cucumber, squash, tomatoes, etc., but they all come up as corn because all the seeds were corn. Truth in advertising laws may prevent Burpee from doing this, but culturally, I think this still happens pretty often. I mustn’t kid myself; if I fill my brain with the seeds of pornography and violence, it is unlikely that I will produce fidelity and gentleness.

Finally, a seed is a beautiful microcosm of the interconnectedness of life. A seed is the beginning of a plant, but it is also the culmination of a plant. And it is so tiny! And it can turn into something so big! But it has to be sown before it can grow. So, whether I am sowing seeds, producing seeds, growing from a seed, or if I am the seed itself, I am part of a greater story which precedes me and will continue after I am gone. I just need to do my part to keep the story going.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown, it is the greatest of shrubs. Matt 13:31-32 (also Luke 13:18-19)

It is faith that enables me to believe that God can turn the dry little thing in this seed packet into delicious sugar snaps. It is faith that enables me to believe that God can turn even the tiniest, least likely to succeed, unpromising, dry little thing in my life into fruit that brings joy and sustenance to others.

Because I have overwhelming evidence, thousands of years of testimony, and first-hand experience that tell me that if I overcome my cynicism, doubt and inertia and plant a seed, God will make something beautiful grow. Just as iI have overwhelming evidence, thousands of years of testimony, and first-hand experience that tell me that if I act in faith, God will make something beautiful grow in my life.

Betsy

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For the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. I Samuel 16:7