It was just a regular seed. In a bowl with other seeds. And July 2nd was just like any ordinary day. Until that seed was planted on that day.
In a Dixie cup. Yep. With just a little scoop of soil surrounding that seed, a plant was born. A week later it was just a little sprout. Nothing spectacular, really. But each morning after that, it seemed to have grown at least another inch. After two weeks, it was so tall, the Dixie cup threatened to topple. So the plant found a new home in a new pot. And every day, it grows another inch taller, baby leaves unfurling, as we wait to see what it will become in the days and weeks ahead.
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I have never had a green thumb. Probably closer to black. I’ve killed every plant that has ever dared to share my space. And it’s really no secret why. If I have lacked the discipline to care for my own body, it is logical to suspect I’d have little success in this area. My plants go weeks without water. They surly need a lot more sun than they ever have access to. Plant food? What’s plant food? Hmm. Just call me clueless.
Suddenly, here’s this determined plant growing, pleased and proud right before my eyes. This time, strategically positioned beside the sink, it is watered daily, bows before a window soaking almost all-day sunlight, and has space to grow. A spiraling, ever-growing vine, daily receives nourishment required for transformation from an unremarkable seed to a vibrant, resolute and thriving organism, fully intending to bear “fruit.” The more I watch this plant grow, the more I desire to see it flourish—to research its needs, to provide the best environment possible for it to mature…to care….
Such an easy metaphor. I shouldn’t be so surprised by this delightful symbol of my own growth during this “70 in 7” Project. Every time as I pass by this plant, I am also reminded to feed my soul the nourishment it needs to continue on this journey of discipline. I must care enough about my soul to provide the means to flourish, to grasp that rich transformation within reach, to allow myself the proper nutrients to intentionally bear fruit and to use that fruit to nourish others around me.
But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. (Galatians 5:22 MSG)
Living God’s way, allowing His love-originated resources to sustain me—here is my soil, my sun, my water. Like this plant, I have everything I need, all the space and nourishment required, to grow, stronger and taller by the day. There is wisdom to direct my energy. Compassion, exuberance, affection, loyalty, holiness. A stick-to-it-tive-ness.
But none of it happens until God says, “It’s time.” He orders it all, just as it should be. Nothing forced, nothing expected. Sweet serenity in His timing.
I find myself in a hurry at least 90 percent of my day. I don’t necessarily understand how the “flaws” in my day work together “for good” (Romans 8:28), but He does. I just need to choose to believe He’s in control. Even when the car door accidentally slams into another person’s car leaving a giant dent, or when we are practically chased out of the library for screaming children, or when all my efforts to share the blessings of my new business with others are thwarted and avail nothing. Yes, even then. Somehow, somewhere, He’s working on something; I just must trust that eventually, some kind of fruit will appear. As long as I keep drinking in His water of life and His Sonlight.
As it says in Elianna’s first baby book, “Life is found in the journey, not the destination.”
The Art of Choosing True Life 