Seeds
Seeds
One spring morning, I made an excursion to our local garden center. A tall wooden cabinet with pull-out bins stood along the wall. Each bin was full of bulk garden seeds. On the front of each bin was a yellowed label with the price per pound scrawled in black marker. I scooped my seeds into brown paper sacks and handed them across the scarred wooden counter to a white-haired man in Big Smith overalls. He weighed my sacks on a white enamel scale and rang up my purchases on a vintage metal cash register; the bell dinged and the cash drawer popped out as he rang up the sale.
Seeds are marvelous things. Within their shells lies the magic of life that is activated by soil, water, and time. A seed is condensed potential—untapped potential. For a seed to become anything more than a seed, it must be planted and surrendered to the germination process, and two things must follow. First, the seed must die to its former status as a seed. It must stop being a mere seed for its true potential to be realized. Secondly, it must be transformed into what it was meant to be. What lay dormant bursts to life and something new is born.
Our faith is like that seed—it is untapped potential, activated by trusting obedience. As we take one small step of faith after the next, our unbelief dies as our faith takes root. The more steps we take, the more seed we plant and the more bountiful our crop. What we sow in faith, we entrust to the miracle that occurs between acts of obedience and the sovereignty of God. Each small, yet monumental act of faith began with simple obedience, just as every fruitful garden begins when the gardener plants a single seed.
Noah took God seriously and felled the first tree for building the ark. His divine escape from the flood began with a single act of faith.
Abram started the conversation with Sarai about leaving Haran—and so began the Hebrew nation through which the Savior would come.
Moses packed his bag and headed back to Egypt—and the great deliverance of the Hebrews had begun.
Esther read Haman’s awful edict against the Jews, scrawled a message to Mordecai and launched a three-day prayer vigil and fast—and rescued her people from genocide.
The same is true in each of our lives.
The return of your prodigal may begin with that quiet prayer you whispered into the darkness during another sleepless night.
The rebirth of a marriage could begin with a single kind word or a tender touch.
The strengthening of faltering faith begins when we pick up a Bible, open it and read it.
The cure for our loneliness is returning to church—it simply requires driving to church and joining a small group.
With each small act of obedience, our confidence in God grows. However, just as a gardener would be foolish to plant a single seed and expect a bountiful harvest, so we must continue to plant. We continue to tend the seedlings, pull the weeds and plow new ground for further planting if we desire a bountiful harvest of faith. Yet it all begins when we act in faith, and sow a single seed.