Seed for Sowing: Entrusting our treasures to the Spirit

He who continually goes forth weeping,

Bearing seed for sowing,

Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,

Bringing his sheaves with him.

—Psalm 126:6

My heart was hurting, my steps heavy when I set out for my morning walk, thoughts centering on hopes that hadn’t come to fruition—hopes for relationships, healings, my work and ministry, even my weight loss. Pained and bowed down, I caught glimpse of spiky seed balls at my feet. I picked one up and examined it closely. I noticed the many openings and sensed the Lord speaking.

Be like the sweetgum tree. By nature, she opens her seed ball to release the seeds to be dispersed on the wings of the wind. Where the seeds land, she does not know. Which ones take root and grow, she does not know. Yet she trusts the wind, and year by year she does it all over again.

Keep doing the good you know to do (Galatians 6:9). Let it pour from your heart, open to the Spirit’s leading (Galatians 5:25). Keep releasing those seeds of prayer, encouragement, wisdom and kindness. Keep pouring out your treasures of time, talent, even your money and your stuff (Luke 6:38). I see it. I see all your hard work, your good deeds and patient endurance (Revelation 2:19). Your prayers and kindness have not gone unnoticed (Acts 10:4). Trust the Spirit with your seeds. Allow Him to disperse them as He sees fit, in the good soil. Even though you can’t see it and don’t know how, your seeds are taking root and growing (Mark 4:27). And in time, you will come this way again rejoicing, carrying your sheaves with you.

Dear God, thank You for Your Spirit’s gentle reminder of the promises in Your Word. May I not become weary in well doing and lose heart, but may I continually bring You my seed for sowing, knowing that after a while I will reap of harvest of blessing. Amen.

What if Life Came in Packages? Would You Unwrap Them All?

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

—James 1:2-4

I attended my granddaughter’s school Christmas program on Friday and was delighted by the present parade. Each student was dressed as a present, most of them wearing a cardboard box covered in gift wrap, as was Addison’s costume. Of course, I had to take her picture. Later I thought, What a cute Christmas card that would make if I could get all ten of my grandchildren to wear cardboard gift boxes! They are all certainly gifts to me. Anyone who is blessed with (grand)children would most likely agree, as children bring joy.

The Gift of Addison

What if all of life came to us in packages? The good and the bad. Our spouse, our job, our children, as well as cancer, unemployment, and car accidents. Would you shake the boxes to try to determine what’s inside before opening them? What if you unwrapped one child, would you take a chance and keep unwrapping in hopes of a second, even though you knew you might unwrap a trial instead?

Patiently Endure

Patient endurance is what you need now, so that you will continue to do God’s will. Then you will receive all that he has promised.

—Hebrews 10:36 NLT

It was a whirlwind visit for my daughter Rebekah, her husband Jairo, and their two-year-old son Javier (“Javi”). They arrived at my house late on Friday and spent all day Saturday at our family reunion. The next morning they packed up to return to Pennsylvania.

Javi is a typical two-year-old boy. He loves climbing, jumping on beds and playing outside. He makes toys out of sticks and feathers and is especially fond of animals. Rarely will you spot him without an animal figure in hand.

When he comes to visit, a trip to the pasture is always in order so he can see the cows. But this weekend, there wasn’t a break in the schedule for tromping to the fields.

As Rebekah and Jairo packed suitcases in their Jeep, Javi and I followed. In a flash, Javi took off running, arms flailing, feet flying straight for the pasture, fenced in with electrified barbed wire.

Stay in Lane

”... let us strip off and throw aside every encumbrance (unnecessary weight) and that sin which so readily (deftly and cleverly) clings to and entangles us, and let us run with patient endurance and steady and active persistence the appointed course of the race that is set before us”

—Hebrews 12:1

“Wait for green,” the traffic sign read.

As opposed to what? I wondered. Doesn't every licensed driver know to wait for green before venturing through the intersection?

“Beware of aggressive drivers,” the next sign also caught my attention.

What? They have to post a sign for this? Where I come from the signs read, “Beware of deer crossing.” But aggressive drivers? What state is this?

I was traveling through Pennsylvania and New Jersey when I spotted those signs, so I’m not sure which one gets the credit. But I do know which state gets the credit for the sign I read this week—it’s where I come from, my own beloved Maryland.

“Use caution. Stay in lane.”

Perhaps I’m missing something, because again as opposed to what? Doesn't every driver know that?

Idioms, Peculiarities, and Personal Satisfaction

Let everyone be sure to do his very best, for then he will have the personal satisfaction of work done well and won’t need to compare himself with someone else.—Galatians 6:4

Okay, I admit it.  That bugs me.  There, I’ve said it.  What I’m talking about are those random spires of sorghum that rise far above the rest of the field.  I can’t help but notice them as I drive past—a peculiar sight that sticks out like a sore thumb. I imagine myself furiously slicing the stalks to line up with their neighbors.  But why?  Why do the overachieving shoots of grain bother me so much?  Is it because I prefer tidiness and clean lines—even, straight lines?  It’s true that a well-groomed lawn without a blade out of place is like a breath of fresh air to me.  And evenly aligned desks in my classroom make my heart sing. But could my annoyance over the perceived anomaly in the sorghum field stem from something much deeper?

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m behind the curve at work.  A few of my colleagues are flaunting cool technology in their classrooms, while I’m still trying to install the software—let alone use it.  They’re head and shoulders above the rest of us.  That bugs me.  But why?  Can I not celebrate their success without getting my nose out of joint?  Do I have to keep up with the Joneses?  Why do I want to be like them?  Is it fear that they will get noticed by the principal and I will not?  “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man?”—Galatians 1:10