Tag: Tilling

More than Clover

The air is icy; it nips at my skin. The overhead clouds are keeping the moisture close by. It was warm last week, and the clover has grown, excited by the prospect of spring. But today it still feels like winter.

The calendar tells me it is time to till the garden.

The tiller shakes in my hands when I start it. I grip it tightly to maintain control and keep it running; and I stare at the hard ground.

Does the ground welcome this? Does this patch of yard sense that I have chosen it for a greater purpose, for growing more than clover?

The rest of the yard, most of the yard, grows clover. This patch of ground is for growing fruit.

Since they don’t do well in hot weather, the sweet peas must be ready to produce their fruit in May. So the seeds need to be sown soon, which means now is the time to till the garden.

The tiller blade cuts into the ground. As the blades rotate, the sharp blades rip out the clover roots and expose dark dirt. I can smell the nutrient rich soil and see the earthworms running for cover. It is a violent act.

But what a promise it holds! A fresh start, a new beginning, out with the old and in with the new. It’s almost like repentance and forgiveness.

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see everything has become new! All of this is from God. 2 Corinthians 4:127

Rarely do I feel grateful for the tilling process, although Paul encourages us to give thanks in all situations (I Thess. 5:16).

But as a gardener, I know that this churning, this disruption of the status quo, this perhaps violent act is necessary in order to have the desired fruit, in order to grow more than clover.

And we are in the hands of a Master Gardener, my friend.

Even if He allows someone else to till the garden for Him, he is still preparing that space for better things.

Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as He is doing today. So have no fear. Exodus 50:20

I wonder if the garden is concerned with who is doing the tilling?

I am usually very concerned with who is churning up my life.

Will I fight God’s effort to till my life, as the hard ground sometimes fights my efforts? Do I accept that God may have set me apart for growing fruit? Is it arrogant to think that God wants to use me for growing more than clover, as the rest of the yard does?

For you are a people holy to the Lord your God; it is you the Lord has chosen out of all the people on earth to be his people, his treasured possession. Deuteronomy 14:2

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. I Peter2:9

I believe God calls us out of this world (John 15:19), transforms us by renewing our minds (Romans 12:2), and enables us to produce good fruit (Galatians 5:22). Will I welcome His tilling of my life? Will I thank Him for exposing the dark underbelly of my emotions to His light?

God knows what needs to grow, when seeds need sowing, and when my life needs tilling.

But you, O mountains of Israel, shall shoot out your branches, and yield your fruit to my people Israel; for they shall soon be home. See now, I am for you; I will turn to you, and you will be tilled and sown. Ezekiel 36:8-9

What a blessing that God has chosen us to bear His fruit. I trust He will do whatever it takes to prepare me to grow more than clover, so that I can yield fruit for His people.

Betsy

Breaking Ground

Enough of this talk, talk, talk – it’s time to till!

Before I put this little seed in the soil, I must till the ground, prepare it, removing whatever hard ground and weeds and rocks are there. I must ready the ground for its next big adventure.

I put on my boots and long pants, and lug my tiller across the yard. I crank it up and force it into the hard earth. It takes all the strength I have to move it along the garden, ripping up weeds and turning up rocks. Often I need help – stronger hands and arms and backs. Tilling is arduous, but rewarding at the same time. The results of your efforts are immediate.

Suddenly, the soil is darker and richer; more receptive to the new seeds, oxygen, and water. No longer is the ground hard packed and crusty, set in its ways.

There is an excitement in ground breaking – it is the herald of something new. Unless, of course, you are the ground. The ground may have been perfectly happy covered in grass. I remember telling a friend of mine about a Bible study, saying, “It will change your life!” To which she replied, “Do you think my life needs changing?” Sometimes we are happy where we are. Untilled, unbroken.

But if I sow those sugar snap seeds on unprepared ground, they will not take root and grow.

A farmer went out to sow his seed, and as he sowed, some fell on the path and was trampled on, and the birds of the air ate it up. Luke 8:5

So while I till up the ground in my yard, I wonder if there are hard packed areas of my life that need tilling. Where am I too resistant to the change God wants to see in me, the seeds He wants to plant? What weeds and rocks need to be uprooted and overturned? Lent, which providentially coincides with the tilling season, provides the perfect excuse for such self-examination.

See now, I am for you; I will turn to you, and you will be tilled and sown. Ezekiel 36:9

Sometimes I am “tilled” against my will. When I developed RA, my regular life came to a screeching halt. I could no longer do what I had always been able to do – cut an onion, turn a key, shuffle cards, walk around the block; everything hurt. I had to focus on work-around solutions and pharmaceutical options. I was told to reduce stress! One thing I lost was my ability to journal; I couldn’t operate a pen that early in the morning. Could I have a devotional time without journaling? I had to learn to sit quietly. What a different way to be with God. By the time we settled on a medicine that worked, three years later, God had planted some wonderful seeds in my inactive, quiet life. As if He was preparing me for all that I was about to face.

2020 was such a time for a lot of us; Covid overturned everything. This strange virus changed our lives against our wishes. Has Covid opened you up to something new or has the grass grown back? Because if there are no seeds planted in that newly tilled soil, it will revert to its old ways and become yard again.

In a different conversation, our senior pastor once asked, “Are we the soil or the hoe?” Wow! Both? I’d like to think that I was the hoe, preparing myself to receive God’s plans for me. But that may be ego. In the instances above, I was the soil. Maybe I always am. Maybe the only thing that changes is my willingness to let the Holy Spirit till me and break up my hard packed ground.

Because I have to be broken before God can use me to produce His fruit.

The sacrifice acceptable to the Lord is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:17

I once heard a sermon about the verbs used in the feeding on the five thousand (Mark 6:41). They are the same verbs used in the last supper (Matthew 28:28) and in communion services to this day. Take, bless, break and give. Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to others. Does He do the same with us? Do we have to be broken before we can truly serve?

Perhaps it is my pride and self-absorption that needs to be broken. Perhaps it is my attachment to earthly pleasures, worldly success and other’s approval. Jesus calls me to crucify myself, break myself, daily to follow Him. (Luke 9:23)

So, grab your tiller and join me. Let’s break some ground.

Betsy

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And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. Matthew 28:20b