UNSEEN

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24 NASB

Preacher preached on faith. After the sermon he passed out mustard seeds, potting soil, tiny clay pots, pens to write good stuff on the little pots.

We named our babies Faith and Hope. Faith like a mustard seed. Hope in the One who gives life to all, new life abundant to those who believe Him, believe in Him, and accept Him. After a week or two, we transplanted Faith and Hope into bigger pots. As I wrote on their new pots, I got to thinking about what God might write on them, what He might write on me. Our faith is life, life in the One who created us, grieved for us, sought us, bought us at an unfathomable price.

And our hope is in death! Because from death to self comes true life in Him. And we get to live this new life instead of the old broken one we traded in. Who can understand that mystery?

When I took Faith and Hope to church—they begged to go, y’all—I found only one whose plant was still alive, but stunted in its original tiny pot.

As those tiny mustard seeds need to grow, so does our faith. As the tiny plants have needs to be met before they can grow—fertility, good soil, water, sun, just enough wind to strengthen them, protection from too much of anything—so it is with our faith.

But not to fear. The Master Gardener knows just what each plant needs. He prepares the soil just so, plowing deep to show us our need and awaken our hunger. He offers the good seed, plants it just so. He never plants the seed too deep to find its way to the Light. He never leaves His plants too long in tiny pots to cramp their roots. He never sits His plants in dark corners (even if it sometimes feels like it) where they wither for lack of sun. He never leaves our baby faith unprotected in storm winds too strong, flood waters too deep.

Then He talks to the tiny plants, encourages them, touches them tenderly.

And yeah, He even names them.    

Thank You for choosing me to receive Your seed of hope, Avi. Thank You for tending it just so. Most of all, thank You for preparing my soil. I treasure all the lessons of the past that showed my desperate need for You. Remind me over and over of my own responsibility: To suck it up. To suck it all up, as much as I can hold of You.

In Your Holy Name, Amen