Tag: spiritual fruit

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

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

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

Netting

I lost a tomato the other day. One day it was on the vine; the next it was gone. Despite the marigolds. Time to take defensive actions.

There’s a wonderful movie, Biggest Little Farm, about a couple who bring natural predators onto their farm to combat threats to their crops. Ducks to combat snails; dogs to combat coyotes; owls to combat gophers. After seven years, their farm is in balance, and they harvest a crop.

I’m not that patient or that eager to invite predators into my yard. Instead, I covered my tomato plants with netting and doused the ground with hot sauce.

Netting is tricky. It catches on everything – sticks, weeds, buttons, watches, glasses. Nick had erected metal poles for the netting, allowing the plants to grow tall under the fabric. Each bolt snags the fine mesh.

Two years ago, most of my tomatoes were stolen by critters, even with the bird netting. Between the marigolds and the hot sauce, I am praying the critters find easier dining. That summer, a dispute with a friend had robbed me of my peace just as the squirrels had robbed the garden. In God’s clever way, He is reminding me once again how I often let circumstances rob me of my peace.

Peace and joy and love are fruits of the Holy Spirit, brought to fruition by His presence in my life. When I let circumstances rob me of His fruit, I am throwing away my past growth and efforts as well as depriving the larger world of His gifts. It may take work, but I need to conscientiously protect the tomatoes in my garden and His fruit in my life.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…. take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Ephesians 6:10-17.

Our shields can be tricky and our swords awkward. My faith catches on my emotions, my friendships, my concerns. I wonder if I am doing life “right.” Sometimes I wonder if there is a right way, a right side to be on when people disagree. Because people will disagree. Even good-hearted, God-fearing, walking-the-walk Christians.

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 1 Corinthians 2:2.

The netting I can put over the fruit growing in my life is scripture. Daily immersion in and meditation on the Word of God. Daily prayer and stillness. Giving all my roiling emotions into the Lord’s hands and asking for His guidance.

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. John 13:34-35.

Jesus’s love for others angered people, even good-hearted, God-fearing, walking-the-walk people. He touched lepers and ate with sinners and spoke to Samaritan women. Am I that loving? Do I love just as Jesus has loved me?

I lost a tomato yesterday. I lost my peace and joy as well. If your garden is suffering as well, join me in protecting the fruit of the Spirit. Join me in learning to love as Jesus loved.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit with in me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me, Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit. Psalm 51:10-12.

Love in Christ, 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

Fertilzer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even floods and piles of manure.

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

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

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

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

Betsy

Abundant Fruit

The sweet peas were awesome this year! They were such a source of joy after last year’s dismal crop. For a while I was picking 50-60 sweet peas every day. The plants are at the end of their growing season now, but what a fantastic harvest. They are so delicious and such a treat to share them with family and friends! There are certainly too many for me to eat by myself.

Friends have asked why this crop has been so good when last year’s was so bad. Of course, there is no single answer to that question, but “right time, right place” seems to sum it up.

Last year, spring was hot and dry. This spring has been cool and rainy, ideal for the peas.

This year, I planted my seeds in their happy place, perhaps because the soil contains the right nutrients, perhaps because the hedge row blocks the afternoon sun. Maybe there was a lesson I needed to learn from the failed crop last year. Whatever the reason, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the abundant harvest this year.

Sometimes, there is a “right time, right place” for what God calls us to do as well. We may not understand why we need to do whatever it is God is calling us to do today and not tomorrow, but if God calls us to do it today, then today is when we should do it.

In Deuteronomy 1, God tells his people to enter the promised land. Afraid, they delay their obedience. When Moses chastises them, they decide to obey the earlier command, but do not ask if they should. The result is a rout, followed by 40 years of wandering.

Although I told you, you would not listen. You rebelled against the command of the Lord and presumptuously went up into the hill country. Deuteronomy 1:43.

Compare this failure to the battle of Jericho, where the people follow God’s unusual and illogical commands exactly, resulting in a tremendous victory (Joshua 6). I love the image of the walls just falling down without human effort. It gives me hope when I look at some of the supposedly insurmountable problems facing us today.

This year’s thriving sweet peas, after last year’s failure, also gives me hope. What happened last year does not dictate what can happen this year. Our past need not determine our future; if we obey God, anything can happen. Four years ago, my life was falling apart as I walked my husband through his last month on earth. Who could have predicted that this year I would rejoice over an abundant sweet pea harvest?

In fact, the abundant fruit caused a problem. The plants grew taller than expected, taller than my support cages. Laden with the relatively heavy ripe fruit, the tops of the plants fell over. Such abundant fruit needs better supports. Gently, I encouraged the plants to stay upright and not become entangled. Next year I will provide taller supports, but for this year I could only try to lessen the stress on the plant.

One of the best way to do this is to pick the peas. As I break off the ripe fruit, the branch lifts, its burden removed.

Can the fruit God’s Spirit produces in us become a burden for us as well? If we retain our grasp on it and do not share it with others, will it weigh us down, hinder our growth and entangle us? Is love really love if we do not give it to others? What about gentleness and patience? Doesn’t God give us gifts precisely so that we will share them with others?

I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. Genesis 12:2.

Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received. 1 Peter 4:10.

God can produce an abundant harvest in you, in the right place, at the right time. If He is, take the time today to share your abundance with others.

Betsy