What does it take to grow something worthwhile?
In 1971 my family moved to a three acre property off a gravel road. The place was a bit of a fixer-upper. Once upon a time an area across the yard from the house had been a huge vegetable garden. Years of neglect had left it overrun with thorny weeds as tall as a man. The high, bending labyrinth of grass crawled with the usual suspects–mice, rabbits, and snakes. I couldn’t imagine such a mess ever supplying anything for anyone to eat–unless it was a plate of poison ivy.
This was going to be a family project. We started with clearing the garden by burning off layers of dead vegetation. Then pulling weeds. And more weeds. We hauled them off in wheelbarrows and garbage bags. Only a cratered, brown square remained. And then my dad showed up with an odd looking machine that had a round spinning head on it, studded with curved spikes—a rototiller. The gadget had a pull cord on it similar to a lawn mower. When started, it began churning the soil.
We followed the trail made by the rototiller, depositing seed into the ground. When we were done, the whole “garden” sat there for a while, unspectacular in every way. And then, after an eternity (to a nine-year-old), and without fanfare, little green shoots began to rise above the ground, like fingers.
Short version: the garden grew, and became a bonanza. For a family of humble means, that meant something. On many evenings, there were steaming bowls of corn, beans, and mustard greens on the table.
But maintenance was involved. Everything wanted a piece of that garden. Deer jumped the fence and ate their fill. Caterpillars crawled inside the corn sheaves and demolished the ears. Weeds tried to grow in any space we left for them. We were constantly having to work around those setbacks.
There’s not much difference in the spiritual world. Paul once wrote, “For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building” (1 Cor. 3:9). God Himself has a field—us—and no doubt it requires every bit as much effort as growing string beans.
A large part of the toil lies not only in battling negatives, but enduring the uneventful process of growth itself. The root system lies out of sight. We’re not notified hourly on Twitter or cable news about each new millimetre of growth there. The miracle, if you want to call it such, is nuanced and gradual, as it progressively spreads.
Again, when shoots break the surface of the ground, they are often so slight that no one pays them any great attention. For a while, in fact, we cannot tell the difference between legitimate growth, and weed.
The work of God has equal characteristics. That’s why Scripture links terms like “sowing” and “reaping” to spiritual development.
Truly, the Christian experience, both individually, and together, is one of farming. Paul described apostolic teamwork as, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” (1 Cor. 3:6). New Testament workers join God with a willingness to get down into the aspects of labor we might otherwise prefer to avoid. The mundane work of God’s field won’t be attractive to a religious mind that craves celebrity status, and viral videos. What is farming, if not long periods of anticipation? It is regrettable that we’ve fostered a brand of Christianity where the workers hunger for recognition so much that they scarcely have the inclination for simple labor.
Especially the cheerless, repetitive variety.
Cropland is notorious for pests and weeds. As soon as you deal with one wave of them, another seems to spring into action. How often have we nuked a bad attitude, or anxiety, only to have it reappear two days later? When will this be over? During our protracted growth season until the return of the Lord, we will often cry out to Him, “How long?” But James wrote, “Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains” (5:7).
The growth process substantially takes place in our hidden depths. Even that which is above ground seems maddeningly static. Yet, God’s miraculous power is at work in all these moments, calling you forward day by day to discover new reservoirs of grace. He issues repeated summons unto prayer, repentance, and the searching out of truth. There are invitations to service, and at times, calls to battle.
Patience is needed, though it should never be confused with idleness.
