"Meanwhile, brothers and sisters, we must be patient and filled with expectation.. Think about the farmer who has to patiently wait for the earth's harvest..." James 5:7
I love the earth. I love the dirt. I love the rain. I love to grow things. I could stay outside all day, every day, digging in the dirt, beautifying, arranging, planting, harvesting, preserving, cleaning up, starting over…
It’s the immediate gratification of color and beauty and bounty that stirs my soul. I am hesitant to plant from seed. When I do plant seeds, I go out to the ground daily to check for sprouts. I carefully guard my plots, water and wait. And wait. And wait. My mom used to tease me and ask if I thought I could make things grow by watching them.
As I was walking through the woods the other day, mulling over some burden, likely moaning and complaining to God…the word ‘seeds’ came to mind.
SEEDS.
‘As the farmer waits…’
I haven’t been good at waiting. I’ve been good at running ahead of the group. I love to go out and look for treasures and new paths and adventures. I don’t mind getting lost as I find my way around unfamiliar places. It is all part of the impetuous nature that dwells in me. However, because I like to discover the surprises and make new and beautiful, often, I want instant results and miracles. Now.
Father God is reminding me of the seeds that I hesitate to plant. It takes time to gently soak their hard exteriors, to place them in just the right soil environment, to carefully water and nurture their growth and then to raise them in a healthy clime. Even then, once they have grown big enough to be out on their own in the cruel, bug infested, windy, stormy world, they must be guarded and encouraged along with water, sunlight, shade, food and guidance. The investment into the growth is large.
I want to be a kind and patient farmer. I want to be honed into an instrument that will wait. My desire for instant results is being tempered into a powerful weapon of prayer and grace and love.
I am still flesh and bone. I cry. I rant. I stumble. I fall down.
Down here in the dirt, with my face pressed into the earth, I feel the great Presence of God and all His power. The seeds are growing. Everywhere that He and I have planted there are little sprouts and flowers and richness beyond my comprehension.
My tears and my whining give way to rest and peace. I can sit here, waiting, still, yet powerfully moving the gates of hell by the praise on my tongue and the raising of my hands to the King of Kings. Surrendered will, laid down impatience, captive thoughts and intimacy with the Holy Spirit have produced in me seeds of joy and thanksgiving. And freedom.
My running ahead, impetuous choices and fiery tongue have had their way with me…but only for the purification of a diamond.
Only for the nurture of seeds.