Scattering seed

I look down at my rainboots, covered with yellow seeds. About every 6 years, we re-seed the field that lies between the front lawn and the sentinel sumac in a line along the road. A parable runs through my head as I keep scattering seed.

...when a great multitude were coming together, and those from the various cities were journeying to Him, He spoke by way of a parable: 'The sower went out to sow his seed; and as he sowed, some fell beside the road; and it was trampled under foot, and the birds of the air ate it up. And other seed fell on rocky soil, and as soon as it grew up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And other seed fell among the thorns; and the thorns grew up with it, and choked it out. And other seed fell into the good soil, and grew up up, and produced a crop a hundred times as great.' As He said these things, He would call out, 'He who has ears to hear, let him hear.' (Luke 8)

The field looks perfectly normal from the porch, different native and hybrid grasses covering the area evenly.

As I sit in my swing many times each day - my quiet, safe place to reconnect with God and throw out the threats and despair that lurks, always ready to steal my thoughts - I have noticed the bird activity. It is very distinct. The birds will only land on certain things.

And those certain things are the free growing wild plants and grasses. Never, out of the thousand or so birds I've watched, has one landed on the humanly produced grass.

They land on the wheat grass.

They land on weeds.

Around the thorny bushes, there is always a patch, dead, nothing growing.

The thorny bush has taken it's territory and killed anything that might threaten it.

Man-hybridized grass is beautiful, shiny and thick.

But nary a bird lands in it.

The children make nests in the man-made grass, and a thorny plant takes up residence in the fall. Covered in burrs, she assures that no other plant or person will come near her.

Bumble bees and butterflies flock to the few colorful wildflowers left after our last planting.

I think of myself as a Christian. Did I spring up and do I flower and spread because of authentic connection with God? Or am I the man-made stuff, beautiful to look at, but worthless when it comes down to it. It is easy to put on a showy Christian front on Sundays, but there is that whole week intervening. I want to be the man throwing seed on good, fertile soil. And I want to be planting the kind of seed that will be a sweet fragrance to the Lord.

And those beside the road are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their heart, so that they may not believe and be saved. And those on the rocky soil are those who, when they hear, receive the word with joy; and these have no firm root; they believe for a while, and in time of temptation fall away. And the seed fell among the thorns, these are the ones who have heard, and as they go on their way they are choked with worries and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to maturity. And the seed in the good soil, these are the ones who have heard the word in an honest and good heart, and hold it fast, and bear fruit with perseverance. Now no one after lighting a lamp covers it over with a container, or puts it under a bed; but he puts it on a lampstand, in order that those who come in may see the light. For nothing is hidden that shall not become evident, nor anything secret that shall not be known and come to light. (Luke 8)

I have four very important seeds. I'm off to water them.

Please take time to watch the beautiful video to this song on Vevo.

She spins and she sways
To whatever song plays
Without a care in the world
And I'm sitting here wearing
The weight of the world on my shoulders

It's been a long day
And there's still work to do
She's pulling at me
Saying "Dad, I need you

There's a ball at the castle
And I've been invited
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone...

She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed
She wants to know if I approve of the dress
She says, "Dad, the prom is just one week away
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

She will be gone

Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand
Just glowing and telling us all they had planned
She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away
But I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

Inside lie the seeds

I really should have taken a photo of the outside of this papaya, discovered fresh and quite obviously NOT preserved in any way chemically, at the Mexican grocery store in Eau Claire. Covered in mold, pock-marked with bruises and a hideous gray-green color, I had my doubts that anything lovely would be found within. Yet what that ugly shell held, protected and cloistered deep inside, was the most beautiful, soft orange fruit and glistening black seeds.

I have felt a bit hideous myself over the past three weeks. Rent open by the ax that was the marriage conference, battered and bruised by day after day on my feet, pouring my energy into food for 100 and trying to ignore the pain in myself, my husband, my children, I peered over the edge of my soul into the fissure there with some trepidation. I remember earlier days when spiritual crisis tore me open to reveal something quite different, smacking much more plainly of self and worthy of hiding deep within, far from the eyes of anyone but myself. (Oh, if only I could have hid the ugliness there from the Perfect One) As I approached that same precipice - the precipice where you gaze down into the deeps inside you and come face to face with the truth that lies buried there - I feared what I would see. The fact that there was a fissure, that I was again riven open, brought grief. When you ask deep, caustic questions that have no immediate answer, when doubt and consternation creep in, you are vulnerable. Where is the God of love? I asked. When will He send help? Why is this His timing? Haven't I suffered enough?

There was one dark day last week where I felt my soul closing like the flower that fears the night. Just like the flower senses that the light is dimming in the late afternoon, I felt the cool chill of the air as my soul shrank back from the face of God. I felt fear - for the first time in over a decade - that faith could die again. Facing that reality - that my faith is a fragile, shrinking, changeable choice - was not enjoyable at all. Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief. (Mark 9:24) Yet when my faith shrank back from Christ in 1998, pulled away by pain and fear of death and anger over circumstances no 19 year old "should ever face" (culture's lie here in quotes), the questions that overcame it were so elemental. Then I asked does God exist? Why should I give self over for Him? What's in it for me? Why suffer for someone I cannot see?

He has answered those questions. Time and time again, with small details and circumstances that were so unlikely, He proved himself to me. I know, in a concrete way, deep in my soul, that He is there. And He is not silent. (Schaeffer) I know what's "in it for me", I know why I give self over to Him, I know why I choose to suffer for someone I cannot see. I have tasted living Water, lived on it and feasted of it for 12 years. Some of the lies I once believed will never ring true for me again.

And perhaps that is why I was torn these weeks past. Perhaps I needed to glimpse those seeds He has been faithfully planting in my heart over years of faith. What looked so ugly from the outside - pain in marriage; exhaustion of the body; tearing, burning, body-wrenching weeping - had some fruit inside that I never expected to see. What I saw is that He has knit me to this husband, deeply and irrevocably. That no matter what pain drives a wedge between us, it hits the hard, impenetrable Rock that is our foundation, and goes no further. Deep down there, at the roots of my marriage, are the beams that He built and established. A cord of three strands (Christ, Aaron, Genevieve) is not quickly broken. (Ecclesiastes 4:12) What I saw is that Living Water always satisfies, that the deep needs of my soul are met, with or without peace in my marriage, with or without time for reflection or self-care or even sleep.

I find myself emerging from the darkness of these last few weeks of sorrow and hard work with new hope for the future. That was one of the things that was repeated over and over at the marriage conference: in Him, your marriage will find hope. I doubted that, when the first painful work was being done. But in the end, of course, it is true. In Him, we will find hope. I still find myself speechless with mouth open in awe when I try to explain the reason concerning the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear (I Peter 3:15). The hope is there, no question. But how to quantify it, describe it, explain it?

And so, while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good, I hope because I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that Day. (Titus 2:13-14; II Timothy 1:12) I knew His name before, when I fell away from faith in 1998; today, I know so much more of His character and His love. I can say, truly, deeply, I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able.

Seeds already sown

And the LORD hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he pursued the people of Israel while the people of Israel were going out defiantly. The Egyptians pursued them, all Pharaoh’s horses and chariots and his horsemen and his army, and overtook them encamped at the sea... ~ Exodus 14:8-9 ESV

Seeds were on my mind as I contemplated November during my cold, windy walks around the lake yesterday and again this morning. I looked around at the man-made objects, and the minimal preparations we humans now make for winter. We gather up some hoses, mulch our small gardens, and mow the grass one last time. There is no fuel laid by for winter, no pantry full of home-canned foods we raised up from the ground with our own two hands, no root cellar or ice house full of meat or produce stored carefully against the snowy days to come. Just a few cosmetic details done mostly to the exterior of our homes and grounds. And we continue to rush on at break-neck pace toward Thanksgiving...then Christmas...then Spring Break.

I have lived close to farmers for most of my life. Their life is predictable: turn the ground over as soon as it thaws in the spring, pick the rocks, fertilize the soil, sow the seeds. Watch the plants grow all summer: a brief rest, with the daily rhythms of turning out livestock, bringing livestock home to tend. Then the harvest: a brilliant flash of activity that continues dawn until well after dark in these days of headlights and engines. Preserving and selling the harvest; then tending the land and the seeds for the next season, the cold, life-destructive forces of the winter months. It is the visionary who is out planting when others are harvesting: winter wheat, late beans. Even the visionaries invest little into crops that defy winter. They are unpredictable.

Yet that is what we're called to be as Christians, isn't it? Visionaries? Planters who sow when all others are conserving. Farmers who trust in a high-risk crop because we are led by a Force more powerful than those of nature...the Ruler of all the other forces of nature? Certainly I am sowing seeds when the world around me screams for me to retreat, conserve, preserve, consolidate. I am throwing around seed with abandon. I am potentially wasting my resources. I don't see much sense in sleeping, whether I am tired or not; I don't care to sit on a couch watching TV, numbing my brain when I feel most called to sharpen it. My physical body is under attack, yet I refuse to build up walls to protect it. I trust God to protect it. I trust His power in my weakness. I will not bend to these aching knees; I will not succumb to the joylessness of conservation.

I also see that seeds long sown are lying dormant within me during this time of unexpected November. My health isn't great right now; but my spirit is. I watched this conundrum over and over on the transplant unit: those families who had a full field of seeds already sewn when the storm came watched peacefully as the water rushed over the landscape of their hearts; they were confident of the harvest to come, however lashed about by storms they were. There were families with nothing planted when the storm hit, and they mourned immediately for the loss of harvest they also knew was inevitable. And then there was a third class, the families God called out during the storm. They were out planting when everyone else was huddled inside: lashed about by rain and thunder and lightening, they were throwing seed into the fields anyway. Winter wheat, late beans. There are harvests to be gleaned when you are willing to risk everything for God!

I have felt an incredible sense of the Devil these past four days. In a time that I expected to feel the comfort of the angels, instead I became more aware than ever of the presence of the Enemy. At first, I struggled with fear. Listening to a visionary today, I was reminded that, however inevitable fear is, it is my choice how to respond. Do I close my eyes and step forward with faith, bridging the gap? Or do I take counsel from my fear?

I want to be a visionary, sowing winter wheat today in the November of cancer. I also look with confidence at the seeds I know God has already sown in me, those seeds waiting to burst in the warmth of the springtime that I know is just around the corner. I feel a sense that now is a time to quietly sow, head down, anticipating a harvest. I don't want to raise my arms defiantly, expecting God to heal me and help me, while Satan is arming himself to attack. I just want to step out on faith, regardless of the impending attack, the attack at which I am perhaps now at the center of.

Though the enemy comes in,
I will not be shaken
Though I may have fallen,
I will not stay down

You are my Sanctuary
I love Your sweet embrace
You are my Sanctuary
Hide me in the secret place

When I long for more of You
You're my revelation
Lord the softest whisper
brings the strength I need

~ unknown, Sanctuary