Seeds are hopeful things. We plant them based on the pictures we see on the fronts of the seed packets: cosmos, zinnias, sunflowers, or perhaps cucumbers, pumpkin, tomatoes. The seeds themselves are so unassuming, so small and brown and dry that we’d marvel if we knew the powerful life stored up within.
I decided to start my garden from seed one year, raising the seedlings indoors to protect them from birds and pests. I brought home peat pots, soil, and a collection of exciting seeds, and after I planted them, watched as tiny first leaves emerged and continued to reach up toward the sun streaming through my kitchen window. The stems shot up, long and thin, and I eagerly awaited the next leaves. But to my disappointment, all of them fell over one by one. The leaves had grown too heavy for the spindly stems; they stopped growing and died.
I learned that even seedlings need time outdoors, in the sun and wind. The wind stimulates the stems to grow strong. Only with strong stems could they continue growing new leaves, and the leaves to gather the energy for flowers and eventually, fruit. Those seeds were designed for the rough reality of life, and in protecting, I had squandered their strength.
Like those seedlings, we who have the life of God flowing through our veins are stronger than we think. It is in the wind and the cold and the sun that we reach our full potential. It is as we face pain and pandemics, scarcity and solitude, that the life of Jesus flows all the stronger through us.
Romans 5:2-5 says, “…We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit…”
As we persevere through these difficult days, character unfurls like new leaves. It might be the moment when you notice yourself singing instead of fretting, when you hear your own words of kindness replacing irritation, when worry for self transforms into caring for neighbor. Joy bubbles up unbidden, peace lingers like a scent, and Love leaks out like juice from an orange when it is squeezed.
When we see glimpses of character--those actions we know we could never have been done on our own—then hope blossoms: God’s love is flowing through me, through you. We are His. We’re looking more like Him each day.
Seeds are hopeful things; they point to fruit. God has planted the seed of His love in our hearts, and He is growing us each day, in just the right conditions, to produce the joyful fruit of lives that exude Jesus. Like vibrant plants, may we persevere and reach upwards, growing in hope. Fruit is coming.
The Christian Journal, April, 2020