Devotions from My Garden: What Are You Waiting for?

July 2, 2012March 6, 2014Leave a comment

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit (Galatians 6:9 MSG).

We planted in pots and crates on our deck, tiny seedlings of cucumbers, tomatoes in three varieties and jalapeno peppers.

Then we waited.

And waited.

We watered. We tended.

But mostly we waited.

From one day to the next, the leaves didn’t appear to expand and the stems didn’t seem to reach any higher than the day before or the day before that.

It took standing back and surveying growth over time for us to notice we had plants and not seedlings any longer. Then there were the first tiny yellow flowers on the cucumber plant.

The day we spotted the tiniest baby tomato, I called all three of my daughters over to see. There we stood, a mom and three girls gently pushing aside green leaves to marvel at the promise of growth.

And then we waited some more.

And waited.

For signs of ripeness and readiness for harvest.

Gardening, like life, is so often about waiting. The difference, though, is that we waited for our first vegetables with anticipation and excitement. We tracked the progress and closely watched the physical signs of a promising future because we knew the day would come when we sat down to salad and salsa from our garden.

But in life we often wait with a hopeless aggravation and a frustrating impatience.

We wait on God, tapping our foot and glancing often at our wrists with urgency.

Perhaps, though, we should wait for God, watching the signs of growth, rejoicing over every bud and clapping our hands with joy every time we see a reminder that the harvest is coming.

This is how the crowds prepared for Jesus’ arrival:

“Now when Jesus returned, the crowds welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him” (Luke 8:40).

Can you imagine the crowd watching the road for the first glimpse of Jesus’ sandal? Perhaps kids ran back and forth bringing news of Jesus’ journey. “He’s coming. He’s near. He’s closer. He’s just around the corner.”

He’s here!

Imagine the hush of the people. They weren’t whining about the wait or postulating that perhaps Jesus wasn’t coming after all.

No, they were likely listening intently for the first sound of His voice chatting with His followers as He traveled on the road.

This is how we wait for God–we look forward with excited anticipation and uncontainable joy for the moment we see God at work.

And while we wait, we prepare to receive all that He’s bringing our way.

Like the kings who faced the overwhelming enemy might of Moab, we wait for God’s promise. He said He would “fill the ditches in the dry streambed with water” overnight and without wind or rain. Yes, He would bring the refreshment and victory they needed (2 Kings 3:16-18).

In the very next chapter, Elisha tells the destitute widow to gather “empty vessels and not too few” and then the Lord filled as many as she gathered with rich oil, saving her from starvation and poverty (2 Kings 4:3).

In two back-to-back passages, God miraculously fills His people up to the brim, giving them all they had prepared to receive.

I feel this now, this urge to prepare, to grab as many jugs and cups and bowls and pots and buckets as I can so I don’t miss out on one drop of God’s provision.

I stand at the foot of the dry streambed and rather than complaining about my parched throat, I want to dress in my swimsuit, ready to dive into the pools overflowing with His miraculous water-without-rain.

It’s waiting, surely. I’m not there yet. But I see the signs. I see the growth, the buds, the tiniest hint of vegetables to come. I see God-movement here and there, projecting change and something new.

Part of me is scared. Waiting is what I know. Change, even good change, frightens me and stresses me out.

So what’s a girl to do?

See the signs of God on the move, the promises of harvest, and yet refuse to budge? “No thanks, God, I’ll stick with what I have and what I know because at least I’ve dug into a trench of trusty comfort and reliability.”

Or do I hang my shoulders in defeat and stomp away, not seeing the harvest quickly enough? Tired of waiting, I dump over the vessels waiting for oil, I walk away from the streambed thirsty for water . . . I turn away from those waiting for the first sight of Jesus and choose instead to complain at home that He didn’t come.

Or I could wait, joyfully and with excitement, nervous perhaps but ready nonetheless. Jumping up and down trying to see Jesus over the heads of the crowd, I’m waiting for God, not waiting on Him.

This is how we reap the harvest, when “we don’t give up, or quit” (Galatians 6:9). This is how we don’t miss out on one drop of what God has planned.

More Devotions From My Garden:

Heather King is a wife, mom, Bible Study teacher, writer for www.myfrienddebbie.com and worship leader. Most importantly, she is a Christ follower with a desire to help others apply the Bible to everyday life with all its mess, noise, and busyness. To read more devotionals by Heather King, click here.

Devotions from My Garden: Seed Identification

May 16, 2012March 6, 2014Leave a comment

The Lord answered, “I will be with you”
Judges 6:16a

She stands under 3 feet tall, this baby girl of mine. With one hand tossed up to her hip, she stomps her feet on the ground twice, three times perhaps for emphasis, and screams, “Never Again!!!” in a voice that commands attention, if not respect. If she’s really upset, she might even engage in some finger wagging.

My husband and I stifle grins at the sight of her: two years old and she could command an army.

When she was born, my mother-in-law was away on a missions trip to an Indian reservation out in the Dakotas. We made the call announcing our youngest daughter’s birth just in time to reach Grammy before she left for her missions work that day.

As any proud Grammy would, she shared the news with her roommate that baby Catherine had arrived.

Hearing the name we’d given our daughter, the woman declared, “Oh, a woman of authority.”

It’s something I’ve pondered as I watched my baby–so assured of her own mind—turn into a toddler—set on sharing her mind. I can see the hints of leadership, yes, even authority crammed into the body and soul of a toddler. Tucking away memories, impressions, and glimpses at her developing character, I feel a little like Jesus’ momma, Mary, who treasured things up in her heart.

My Catherine reminds me so often of the seeds we planted in pots on our deck this year. They appear so small and yet inside an explosive force lies dormant, ready to break out of its shell and grow and grow and grow . . . and hopefully produce much fruit.

Holding that ordinary seed in our hands, we can’t begin to imagine the potential for beauty and nourishment within once it receives proper care and tending. The only hint we have of the future is the picture on the package and sometimes even then we’re surprised.

When we planted this year, we set aside one long planter for carrots and excitedly covered over about 20 seeds with 1/4 inch of dirt. Within a few days, shoots of green appeared, but strangely enough, they didn’t look like carrots. In fact, they looked identical to the radish sprouts now growing up in other pots.

I think perhaps my daughters got a little ambitious with the radish seeds and planted them in places I didn’t expect.

Sometimes we look at people or ourselves and see plain, brown, ordinary, small, and insignificant specks. Mystery seeds. If we’re particularly imaginative, we might even think we see the potential for carrots, only to learn later that God really designed us to be radishes. Surprise!

Ultimately, God sees what we cannot. He recognizes all our potential for growth. He sees beyond our insufficiency and the trappings of our untrained immaturity and chooses circumstances, people, and training that will nurture, prune, and tend us into fruitful vines.

This is what God did for Gideon. In a time when the nation of Israel was oppressed by the Midianites and foundering without a king or judge to lead them, God raised up a teenager to save his people.

Scripture tells us:

The angel of the Lord came and sat down under the oak in Ophrah that belonged to Joash the Abiezrite, where his son Gideon was threshing wheat in a winepress to keep it from the Midianites. When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon, he said, “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior. ” (Judges 6:11-12).

Mighty Warrior? Who could the Lord be talking about? Surely not this youth doing chores for his dad! We read later that Gideon destroyed his dad’s altars to the false gods, Baal and Asherah, so Gideon wasn’t even a child of a faithful and righteous man.

Even Gideon thought God meant someone else, answering, “Pardon me, my lord,” Gideon replied, “but how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family” (Judges 6:15).

He said, “I’m a nobody from a nothing family. I’m no Mighty Warrior. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

We may think he was right as Gideon puts God to the test repeatedly, asking for signs and reassurances of God’s command (Judges 6). Then on the eve of the battle, Gideon still feels afraid and God offers him further comfort and confirmation by allowing Gideon to overhear the enemy and how assured they were of defeat (Judges 7).

In fact, even when the battle is over, won with only 300 Israelite soldiers against an overwhelming Midianite army, it still seems odd that God could call Gideon “Mighty Warrior.” After all, there’s no question at all who was the Mighty One. The battle was the Lord’s; Gideon was just yielded and usable.

The truth for Gideon and the truth for us is that God looks at us and sees beyond all of our failings and fears. Not only that, but He’s also not limited by our skills and talents. He doesn’t see the potential of what we can do on our own; He sees the potential of who we are with Him.

With God, Gideon was indeed a mighty warrior. That’s why when Gideon asked how any of this would be possible, “The Lord answered, ‘I will be with you” (Judges 6:16).

That is the promise He has for us–His presence, His help, His guidance, His reassurance when we are afraid. All He requires from us is trusting obedience and the willingness to embrace His plans and His designs for our future.

More Devotions From My Garden:

Devotions From My Garden: Be An Original

March 30, 2012March 6, 20142 Comments

“Let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t”
(Romans 12:6 MSG)

I am a passionate gardener from about March to June every year. It feels refreshing, good for the soul, full of life, and peaceful to push my trowel into the dirt in the cool morning air or in the breezy moments before twilight.

During those months, I fancy myself a real gardener as I spread the mulch over the newly weeded flower beds and stand back to survey my plot of earth.

Then it gets hot. All my gardening ambition dies. When I weigh weeding in the heat with working in the comfort of air conditioning, my inside work wins every time. So, my gardens transform into jungles as weeds brazenly shove aside my mounds of mulch. Massive spiders take up residence in undisturbed webs.

Two years ago, I had an epiphany in July when my gardens were just taking on that forlorn abandoned look.

After a quick trip to the Home Depot for a super sale, I toted home some $2 pots of ground covering. They started small—these tiny plants of phlox and candytuft, but over time I hoped they’d cover the expanse of the garden. And if it worked, there’d be less space for weeds. (Crosses fingers and digs into the dirt).

Yesterday, I worked in the flower beds with all my usual spring passion. I fingered the tiny green sprouts just peeking up from the dirt and tried to remember what perennials should reappear in the next few months.

I yanked the viny weeds away from my radiant tulips with their bold colors. In these early spring months, the tulips are the stars of the garden. They are fabulous. They are eye-catching. They are royal show-offs.

Next to them, though, are the bright and cheerful phlox and candytuft, the simple plants that have now quadrupled in size. No one has ever told them they are just ground covering and I’m not spilling the secret.

Every glance around my garden testified to God’s creativity. The beauty of this world is so vast and varied. And I wondered—is it possible to say that this pure white candytuft, all fluffy and bright, is less beautiful than the deep purple tulip blooming next to it?

They are both unique testaments to God’s design.

So are we.

The flowers aren’t bothered by their variety or the specific beauty God’s given them. The tulip rises high and blooms bright, giving glory to God by being a tulip—as it was designed.

The candytuft spreads across the ground with simple and sweet blossoms stirred slightly by the breeze, giving glory to God by being candytuft—as it was designed.

We, however, so often stunt our growth and destroy our own service by becoming ministry busybodies and nosy talent scouts. “She’s better than me. I’m better than him. I wish I had her gifting. I wish I could do that. I’m great. I’m nothing.”

It’s spiritual gift envy and it’s destructive and dangerous. It takes something beautiful—the variety of spiritual gifts God has given—and twists it into ugliness and pettiness. We might as well trample all over the gardens of faith God has created, stomping on the blooms of others and smashing down their leaves. Meanwhile, others are ramming their big boots down on our own petals.

Paul wrote in Galatians, “Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another” (Galatians 5:26 ESV).

I love this passage in The Message:

That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original.

Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life (Galatians 5:26, 6:4-5, MSG).

You are an original. So is the person next to you in Sunday School. And the lady who cares for the babies in the nursery, rocking them to sleep. And the guy on the stage singing. And the artist arranging the flowers in the church windows. And the couple who houses missionaries during their visits. And the man who comes early to unlock doors. And the servant who gives his time to set up the chairs for covered dish meals.

All of them original, all of them part of God’s amazing design. We can trample all over each other, vying for personal glory, attention, and the best gifts in God’s bag of talents.

Or we can “Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. ” We can “do the creative best you can with your own life.”

We can also seek out every opportunity of pointing to the beauty of God in others. Don’t worry if people don’t always see your own beauty. Whether you feel like groundcover or like a tulip taking center stage in a spring garden, you’re blooming for God’s glory.