A Time to Sow

This quarantine has done strange things to me. It has spurred me to learn things that I would never have tried to learn, things I had been putting off as impossible for ages.

One of those is gardening. I am one of those people who kills every plant she buys or is gifted. It's exasperating.

But in quarantine I decided enough is enough. I was going to really try to grow a garden. But how to justify the start-up expense (the raised bed, the soil, the seeds and small plants, the fertilizer, and so on)?

I decided to separate the daily work of the garden from its result (the fruit and vegetables I would eat at the end). If I were waiting to feed my family from this small garden, it certainly would be worth it, since the crop would be meager and my track record with plants was dismal.

Instead, having a garden would give me something focused to wake up for and a simple task to do. Do the babies (yes, I referred to them as my children) have enough water? Are there any insects bothering them? Upon attending to those two matters, I could go on with everything else in the day.

I did not expect, however, to learn spiritual lessons. I did not expect for the Bible to come alive before me. Let me share one of those lessons.

Over and over again in parables, our Lord Jesus Christ talks about what the kingdom of God is like. In Matthew 13, Christ talks about the sower spreading his seed on all kinds of soil, the farmer who lets the tares and the wheat grow together, and the dragnet that catches fish both good and bad.

When I planted mammoth dill from seed, I did not know what it would look like. So when it looked like one of the seeds was sprouting much faster than the others, I was worried. Was it a weed? Or was it a happy baby dill plant doing the job I had asked for it? I was too inexperienced to tell.

Then it came to mind that the wise farmer in Matthew 13 told his servants to let the wheat and the tares grow together and separate them out later. I took his advice and let them both grow together until they were identifiable, which from which.

In the same way, I threw sunflower seeds all over a patch of soil and relied on God help them grow. Would the soil be good enough? Would the seeds be duds or would they work? Only He could tell. For now, my job was to spread the soil.

And my service should be the same. I call, I text, I do my best. But I cannot control the soil. I cannot always clear the thorns of the cares of the world from the lives of those I serve. I cannot make my plants grow even one extra inch by my own power, and so I cannot pry their hearts open to God. I can only do as He does: knock, invite, spread seed, share the light. And pray, pray, pray that He touch them, transform them, heal them, and raise them from any spiritual storms.