Tag: hope

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