Tag: spiritual fruit

First Tomatoes

I went out of town for a week and came home to red tomatoes! What a joy to see them there, peeking out from the green leaves. The squirrels didn’t steal them, the birds didn’t peck them, too much water didn’t split their sides. Ripe tomatoes!

The normal garden routine is to walk along the garden and watch the green tomatoes get bigger and bigger, then lighter and lighter, then see hints of pink and tints of orange arise. I put up the bird netting and seal off entry points for the squirrels and pray the tomatoes ripen before they are destroyed.

But sometimes the garden surprises me.

My little prodigy tomato plant brought me beautiful red cherry tomatoes while I wasn’t even looking.

Isn’t God amazing!

Should I be surprised they appeared the week of Pentecost, when God reminds us that He is the giver of gifts, the giver of power, and the source of all growth? God produced fruit on my tomato plant just as His Spirit produces fruit in our lives. Sometimes we work and struggle to help the fruit grow, and sometimes it suddenly appears like flames of fire or red tomatoes.

But there’s another reason these little tomatoes fill me with joy. For the past few years, my tomato plants have struggled. They may yet struggle this year, but these little red jewels fill me with hope and encouragement. Perhaps the effort I extend may actually result in the desired end – ripe tomatoes.

They are days when I love gardening for the activity itself – scooping up dirt in my hand and inhaling the soil’s scent. I sense a connection with the earth, the minerals in the dirt that are essential for life, the energy and life the soil brings. I sense the awakening of a long dormant part of my brain left by ancient ancestors who relied on the earth for daily survival.

Few things can compare to the scent of the basil and garlic plants, or the tart tang of tomato plant leaves. Sometimes just the joy of being outside makes gardening worthwhile. The bunnies and birds, the honeysuckle and fireflies, the tinkle of the creek and the swaying tree branches remind me of how good God is to us.

But I don’t garden for these sensations. I garden for the fruit. I want sugar snaps, cucumbers, peppers, and especially, I want tomatoes.

After walking in the creek for a while, I led my grandkids to the garden, and we picked those little red tomatoes. Two for each of them, which they ate walking beside the garden.

What a perfect gift.

Sometimes, I get tired of gardening and the effort it takes. Sometimes, the lack of visible results is discouraging. The same is true in my walk of faith. Sometimes, I get tired of extending the effort and discouraged by my lack of progress. Will reading my Bible today really make any difference? Do I really need to go to church today? I know I committed to this group, but they won’t miss me if I skip.

But then, God surprises me with a gift. Some word leaps off the page and I sense God speaking to my heart. I sit beside an old friend in the pew and reconnect. A woman in the group provides just the piece of information I need to finish my project. Ripe tomatoes on the vine.

His divine power has given us everything needed for life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 2 Peter 1:3.

Put in the work. The tomatoes are worth it!

Love in Christ, Betsy

30, 60, 100fold

Cucumbers are easily my favorite plant in the garden. Aggressive vines, they fill whatever space I give them and reach for more. Rarely do I have a year when the cucumbers refuse to grow or don’t produce fruit. At this stage they are a luscious green hue and boast large leaves and spreading vines. But they are not identical. Similar plants planted next to each other in the same soil and nurtured in the same way still grow differently.

I don’t know why the plant on the left is so much bigger than the plant on the right. They are both healthy. They are both growing. I expect them both to yield cucumbers later this summer.

My grandkids are like this. Although they are twins, a boy and a girl, my grandson is significantly larger than my granddaughter. This may or may not be true their entire lives. I don’t know if the smaller cucumber will have a growth spurt and catch up to the size of his neighbor, or if it will always be a smaller plant. The beauty is – it doesn’t matter. Not in my eyes and not in God’s eyes.

Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain. Some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Matthew 13:8.

In the parable of the sower and the seed, Jesus distinguishes the seed that was unable to bear fruit from the seed that did but is not critical of the seed that produces “only” thirtyfold.

If only I could be so gracious!

Comparisons and competition are an inevitable part of life, but I wonder if they need to be. I love to watch football and basketball, cooking competitions and singing competitions. I love to play bridge and mahjong. I like to win. But the truth is, I often lose. And in any competition, most people “lose.” If only one person can be the best, it’s a good chance that the person is not me, or you.

Fortunately, God does not call us to “win.” He askes us to bring our failures and weaknesses to Him and let him use them to further His kingdom. His “power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

In the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), The servant who presents four talents receives the same praise as the servant who produces ten. They both doubled what they were given.

Perhaps, the smaller cucumber plant is doing just as well, or even better, with what it started with than the larger one. Perhaps the plant producing 30fold faces obstacles unknown to us. Perhaps that harvest is more miraculous than the abundant 100fold harvest. Who am I to judge?

And by the time my cucumbers do produce, it will be difficult to determine which vines are producing which fruit. They will intertwine and climb together until all I see is a lovely cucumber harvest.

I am so grateful for my growing cucumbers, the large and small ones. All are evidence of healthy soil and sufficient water and nutrients. All are growing, and Lord willing, all will produce fruit. My role as the gardener is to encourage each one of them.

In yoga class, out teacher reminds us to keep our eyes on our own mat. Sometimes, that is difficult. The urge to compare and contrast is constant.

But when they measure themselves by one another, and compare themselves with one another, they do not show good sense. 2 Corinthians 10:12.

Instead, 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.

Jesus tells us that good soil produces grain, some thirty, some sixty, and some one-hundred-fold. All are cause for celebration.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Prodigy

I slip on my garden shoes and head out the back door. The sun peeks over the tree line and warms my face. Green hedges and green trees greet me everywhere I look. May is a wonderful time to be outside.

I pick a few sugar snaps to savor as I walk along the summer plants. The lighter green leaves of new growth bring a smile to my face. “Look how big you’re getting!” Words of encouragement that every living thing needs.

I wander down the row of tomatoes and stop. A tomato? It’s May!

May is when my summer plants send down roots and establish themselves in the ground. May is when my plants grow tall and spread their branches. This little plant thinks May is a time to produce tomatoes.

I know that having a little green tomato in May does not necessarily mean I will have a red ripe one in June. Sometimes the constrained nature of the seedling container encourages the plant to blossom early. There’s a good chance the plant will redirect its energy to establishing roots and spreading out branches now that it’s in the ground. The plant will reabsorb and redistribute the nutrients needed for the tomato to ripen.

Perhaps this little plant is a prodigy, and it will produce fruit now and for months to come. Perhaps that is in the DNA of cherry tomato plants. I haven’t planted one in years. I stopped because the clusters of tiny tomatoes often ended up on the ground, too easily dropped from their branches. But my grandkids love these little tomatoes, so I am growing them.

What I hope is that the plant is not peaking too early, blooming before it’s established enough to withstand the summer heat. Perhaps it is too eager to display its accomplishments, producing tomatoes and ignoring the deep underground work of establishing roots.

Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched, and since they had no root, they withered away. Matthew 13:5-6.

Only time will tell if this is a prodigy or an early bloomer.

Maybe this plant will produce tomatoes in June and be spent and exhausted, unable to endure the heat of late summer. Or maybe it will produce tomatoes continuously for months.

I’m too old to be a child prodigy or even an early bloomer. But I am prone to display my thoughts and actions before I have given them a chance to develop roots. Perhaps I need to redirect my resources to reaching deep into the quiet darkness to find the nutrients and moisture hidden there.

All of us Marthas in the world wish we could be a little bit more like Mary, both the one who sat at Jesus’ feet (Luke 10:42) and the one who pondered things in her heart (Luke 2:19).

I hope this little plant is sending down roots, establishing itself firmly so it can withstand the heat of summer.

I hope I am too. And you, as well. So that we may grow tall and healthy and spread out our branches, providing shade and fruit and enough room for birds to nest (Luke 13:18). What a beautiful vision of the family of God, a healthy and growing garden.

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. John 15:4.

As exciting as it is to see a tomato on the vine in May, I pray that this little plant, and all of us, will take the time to establish our roots firmly so we can abide in the vine and produce an abundant harvest.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Bad News, Good News

The bad news is that my sugar snaps will not be the tall, thick, over-abundant crop they were last year. Could it be chemicals from the cardboard? Did the cardboard move and suppress some seeds? Did the heat and rainless days, coupled with my inattention, stunt their growth? It could even be the absence of Miracle Gro in their infancy. Most likely, a combination of these factors caused me to have a short and patchy sugar snap crop.

The good news? Look at the blossoms! Each of these dainty white flowers will yield a delicious sugar snap. These short plants are healthy. They are green, and they are flowering. My mouth waters in anticipation of that first sugar snap pod. Sweet and crunchy, damp with the morning dew. Maybe next week…

What a gift that God created blossoms. Vibrant pink, dainty white, or bold shades of yellow, these bursts of color let us know that the plant is alive and thriving. Blossoms bring color to the browns of winter and the greens of summer. They bring proof of life and hope for growth, beauty in the moment and a foreshadowing of future fruit.

From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth is leaves, you know that summer is near. Matthew 24:32.

God gives us hints of good things to come. Bad things too, if we have sown seeds of anger and hatred. But that is a thought for another day. Today, it is enough to revel in the sugar snap blossoms.

How easy it would be to get discouraged by a crop that is not as abundant as I had wanted. How easy it is to compare this year’s crop to last year’s and find it lacking. But every crop is different. Every year is different. And here’s the thing, this smaller crop may be an answered prayer.

I will be unavailable to pick my sugar snaps in late May, when they usually come in. Last year, I was picking 60 plus peas a day in late May. I was worried about this year’s harvest being lost. I planted the peas early so they would come in early, but if the weather had stayed cool, the plants would have matured longer (probably grown taller) and produced their flowers later. There was a chance I could miss the harvest.

But the higher temperatures and stunted growth have allowed my sugar snaps to flower in late April and bear fruit in early May. God is so good!

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

So, maybe it’s all good news. Perhaps I shouldn’t complain or fret if reality does not look like I imagined in my head. This year is not last year. My life is different, my garden is different, the temperatures are different, why would I expect my garden to be the same?

What looks like a failure, or a disappointment, may be the perfect solution.

Perhaps, if I stop trying to impose my will on the situation, I can see how beautifully God has knit the world together. What love He has for the world that He gives us blossoms and hope, rebirth and growth, and perfect solutions to enrich our souls.

I should have sugar snaps by next week. Good news!

Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people. Luke 2:10.

Has God shown you a blossom, a promise of growth and future fruit? Is God transforming what looked like disappointment into answered prayer? Are you focusing on the bad news or the Good News?

The fruit is coming soon!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Seedlings

I slip into my garden shoes and cross the wet grass to my newly planted garden. A cool breeze causes me to shiver, and I wrap my hands around my warm coffee mug. It’s still April. It’s still Spring. It may be warm enough to put the plants in the ground and spend the afternoons outside, but the mornings are still chilly.

By the time I’ve walked the garden, pulled weeds, and taken pictures, only my toes still feel the chill.

The rain yesterday morning made the garden easy to plant yesterday afternoon. This morning, the ground is still damp. Hopefully, the abundant water and the soft soil will enable the seedlings to establish their roots quickly.

Although I can’t see it, I envision the roots once so tightly packed in their containers stretching out in freedom, thrilled by the space to explore and claim.

Out of my distress, I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me in a broad place. Psalm 118:5

There were hundreds of plants to choose from at the garden center. What made me pick these? They seemed too big for their containers. They had proven themselves able to grow and now needed more space to achieve new heights.

Does God do this with us?

I don’t think the seedlings at the garden center were in distress. In fact, the garden center tries to keep them as healthy and happy as possible. Even so, there were reps there from a plant company pulling their dead and dying seedlings off the shelves.

If the seedlings aren’t taken and replanted in a garden somewhere, they will never become the plants they can be. Almost makes me want to buy all of them, but of course that is not possible. Perhaps I can encourage you to buy a few?

So, I picked the seedlings that seemed most ready to leave their container cups and transplanted them into my broad and soggy yard. Here, they can spread their roots deeper and their branches higher. Here, they can bear fruit.

Those containers the seedlings were in helped protect them when they were young. The small space gave the seed a safe place to transform, and the vital nutrients needed to do so. That cozy container allowed the plant to be kept in a safe, warm environment, protected from storms and predators. But now that the plant is established, it needs garden space to grow.

Perhaps I have containers around my life, containers that once protected me but now constrain my growth. Perhaps I have separated myself from others or sheltered myself from storms. Perhaps I have put a container around God – who He can love, what He can do, how He might show up. Maybe to grow and bear fruit, I need to shed those containers and spread out into the wider world around me.

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19.

It’s a wide world out there, and my garden is only a miniscule spot in it. But it is bigger than the container from the garden center. I hope my plants thrive in the space provided. I pray they take advantage of the chance to spread their roots and extend their reach. Perhaps God is giving you and me that opportunity as well, an opportunity to spread our roots and extend our reach.

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit. Jeremiah 16:7-8.

Christ is Risen. God has done a new thing, and with God, nothing is impossible. The world beyond our containers may look scary, but trust in the Lord. Great growth awaits us.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Growth

It stopped raining long enough for me to check on my sugar snaps. They love this weather. The ground is fully saturated with water and the air is warm. Far enough from the creek to escape the flood, my growing plants cling to the supports and pull themselves ever taller.

What makes them grow? What makes the dried-up seed pods transform into these lovely plants?

I found the remnants of a seed packet in the garage the other day. There were still seeds in it. I guess I had saved them for bare spots and never planted them. They were still dried up little pods. Certainly, those little seeds had as much potential as the ones I planted. But I had not buried them in the ground and exposed them to storms and predators. I had left them safe in the bag, just in case. How pitiful they seem next to my luscious sugar snaps.

I’m planting them in the ground. It’s late in the season and the seeds are old, but they are no good to me as they are. Who knows? Maybe they will burst forth and become late season sugar snaps. At least they will have the opportunity.

For he says, “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.” See, now is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation. 2 Corinthians 6:2.

The Bible tells us that with God all things are possible, nothing is impossible. (Matt. 19:26, Mark 10:27, Mark 9:23, Luke 1:37, Luke 18:27, Phil. 4:13, Gen. 18:14, Job 42:2, Jer. 32:17.)

I see it all around me. I see it every day in the garden. God takes worthless seeds and makes them grow and flower and produce fruit.

What can He do with our lives if we give Him the opportunity?

Not that it will all be easy. We can’t sit in our little packet and sleep all day. We will be exposed to weather and dangers and new experiences. We will have to stretch out fragile tendrils and grasp onto sturdy supports. We will have to learn which supports draw us closer to the sun and which keep us from upward growth. We will change. And change can be scary and difficult.

But if asked if I would rather be a seed in a packet or a luscious green vine bearing fruit, I’m choosing the vine every time.

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 2 Corinthians 5:17.

Bare tree limbs burst forth in green leaves. Brown and brittle yards transform into fields of green grass and vibrant wildflowers. Strong winds bring us massive storms, then whisk them away to leave us clear blue skies. Water overflows the creek beds and then soaks into the soil, where it is saved in underground reservoirs. See, everything is becoming new.

I hope these growing sugar snaps encourage you as much as they encourage me. They are not hindered by what they used to be. What they used to be contained the core that allowed them to become what they are today, the nucleus of what they will become in the future. Now they are green and growing. Now they clasp hands with others growing beside them. Now they wrap their tendril tightly to the support and extend themselves, moving ever upward.

Yes, I want to be a fruit-bearing vine. I want to be like my sugar snaps.

So I say to you, Ask and it will be given you; search and you will find; knock and the door will be opened. … If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him! Luke 11:9, 13.

If we ask Him, God will transform us. God will help us grow and bear fruit. Because with God, nothing is impossible.

Love in Christ, Betsy

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

Not Yet

All at once and very slowly. That’s how things seem to happen in my life. Suddenly it is March, and the sugar snaps seeds are in, and the trees begin to blossom. And yet, the trees stay bare. The seeds have not sprouted. My heat is still on. Lent is here, yet Easter feels far away.

Part of me struggles to grasp that this is 2025. When I was I child that sounded like some fantastical future date. Now the days just tick off like any other year. Full of tasks and to-dos and heart-rending conversations and mindless pursuits. Nick has been gone for almost six years, and yet the earth continues to spin. The trauma from last summer feels like old news but is not a year old.

My sugar snaps sit in the ground. I walk to the garden and stare at the dirt. I grab the hose and spray the soil with water. So much happens that I cannot see. So much is out of my control. So much is unknown.

I must trust that the Lord is working. He is at work in my garden, in my life, in the church, in the nation. I must plant the seeds, water them faithfully, and trust.

It’s hard to do when all I see are weeds and dirt and barren branches.

But the sun is shining. The sun shines for more minutes each day. The grass is slowly turning green, and buds have appeared on the tree branches.

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

Of course, I have seen many springs, and many trees in bloom. I have watched sugar snap seeds transform into fruit-bearing vines. I know from experience that these things will happen eventually. And this time of waiting will be forgotten, erased by the swift passage of days. But today, I find it difficult to see what the future holds.

What will happen in my garden, my life, the church, the nation? The garden tells me that what it looks like now is not what it will look like in three months or six months. My garden teaches me that there is a lot happening I cannot see.

My garden teaches me that I do not have the ultimate say over what happens. The future is in God’s hands. Today is in God’s hands. I do my part. I pray, I water, I protect, I care for my garden and anyone God places in my path. But my sugar snaps may not grow. Or they may not grow in the manner I would like them to grow. There may be other factors at work which I cannot see and cannot control.

I have a choice. I can be angry and afraid, wringing my hands and expecting the worst, or I can continue to work and trust God with the outcome.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8.

I choose today to be grateful for the bright blue sky, the birds that fly past my window, and the gentle breeze. I’ll water my garden, love my friends and family, and pray for the church and the nation. I’ll support those who need my help and listen to their stories. I’ll open my heart and mind to what God considers just and kind. And I will trust Him with the outcome.

It feels as if things are moving very slowly. But I know that God can make things happen all at once. All at once, the sugar snap vines will grow, the trees will blossom, and Christ will rise from the grave. All at once, these days I spent unsure about the future will be erased by the passage of time and the glory of what God will bring about.

Now therefore take your stand and see this great thing that the Lord will do before your eyes. 1 Samuel 12:16.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Lenten Seeds

Dirt cakes my nails and sweat drips down my face as I toss the last of the seeds in the narrow furrow. Days of warmer temperatures bring me outside to plant the sugar snap seeds. The dark brown soil welcomes the seeds as they roll into dips and settle into tiny valleys.

Suddenly, winter is ending and spring is on her way. The robins dance in the yard and tiny green scapes sprout from my garlic bulbs. February snow and a late Easter have lulled me into thinking winter would never end. But now the blue skies hold promise. Spring is coming.

I cover the seeds with dirt and lay wire over them to keep the birds away. As soon as the seeds sprout, I will remove the protective wire, but that is weeks away. First the little seeds must sit in the dark ground and let God transform them.

This year, because Easter is so late, the planting of these seeds coincides with Lent. Somehow, the resting of the seeds in the quiet darkness seems appropriate. We think of Lent as a time to give up something, to deny ourselves, to wrestle with our personal demons. But God calls us to that every day (Luke 9:23). Perhaps Lent is better seen as a time spent apart from the world, in the wilderness, in the dark and lonely soil. Because that is where transformation takes place.

Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. John 12:24-25.

Those seeds that prefer the sunshine, the company of other seeds in the packet, and the orderliness of a display rack at the garden center, those seeds will never bear fruit. Those seeds which refuse to get dirty and sit alone in darkness will never transform into healthy plants.

Perhaps that is what Jesus means with his words. It is when we can step away from our clean and orderly lives, when we can spend time away from all our pleasurable diversions, and when we can deny ourselves the comfort of the known, that God gives us a better life.

Perhaps all He wants is for me to seek His approval rather than everyone else’s. Perhaps He wants me to be transformed by His presence and not by the world around me. Perhaps the only way I can become more than a seed is by sitting alone with Him.

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 2:12.

So, for Lent this year, I going to spend time alone with God, intentionally, daily. I’m going to die to the world around me for a set period of time and spend that time with God. I’ve said it, now I must do it.

I want to be a seed that becomes a fruit bearing vine. I want God to give me the strength to deny myself and win the battle with my demons. I want my words to betray that I spend time with Jesus. (Matthew 26:73)

Are you planting any seeds this Lent? Are you preparing for the coming Spring?

Are you willing to sit alone with God in the quiet darkness and let Him transform you?

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

I would ask you to join me, but this is something you must do on your own.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Potential

I hold seeds in my hand. Within them there is the potential to be tall green plants covered in white blossoms and dangling pea pods.

Potential. Growing up, I hated that word. Embedded in the compliment, I heard the complaint. I could do something, but I wasn’t. If I just apply myself, work a little harder, invest a little more, I could become the person they thought I could and should be. But obviously I wasn’t doing that, and I wasn’t the person they wanted me to be. I was, instead, a slacker.

My sense was that they were looking at a sugar snap seed and wanting me to produce tomatoes. Perhaps that is unfair. Perhaps they were just looking at a seed and wanting it to grow.

Here’s the lesson of the seed, though. Me wanting the seed to grow, and it having the potential to grow, does not make it grow. I cannot make that happen. The seed cannot make that happen. Only God can.

We have roles to play. If the seed is not good, or not a sugar snap seed, it will not produce sugar snaps. If I do not put it in the ground and water it, it will not transform. If I do not support the vine’s growth or protect it from predators, the harvest will be damaged. The garden is a cooperative effort between God and me, between nature and the seed.

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 of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. John 1:12-13.

The seed is not enough, even if it has potential. And my desire for the seed cannot transform it into what I want it to be. God, through the amazing architecture of nature, has embedded a nucleus of a fruit-bearing plant in this seed. He alone gives it the power to become all that it has the potential to be.

God has embedded the nucleus of a fruit-bearing soul in me and you. We can help or hinder the transformation of that seed into a healthy, loving, spirit-filled life, but we can’t make it happen. Not by the will of man.

We need to put that seed of ourselves into the hands of God. He alone knows what we have the potential to be.

And this seed is one of hundreds. I will plant all of them. Hopefully, all of them will be transformed into fruit-bearing vines. Often, when we talk about God’s will for our lives, our purpose, we think we have a unique role. We don’t want to be like everyone else. We want to be special. That is pride, my friend. While every snowflake is unique, it takes thousands of snowflakes to carpet the ground in white.

A garden succeeds when multiple plants bring forth the same fruit.

What would our world look like if hundreds or thousands of us stood together and were loving and kind and peaceful? What if wide swaths of us were patient and gentle and joyful?

The Holy Spirit can produce that fruit in us. That is our true potential. We have been given the power to be children of God. God wants us to be a beautiful garden of healthy trees planted beside the river, bearing fruit continuously, and healing the nations (Revelations 22).

I think that is what God sees when he holds the seed of us in His hands. He sees our potential.

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

Love in Christ, Betsy