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LIFE as a SEED PLANTER

One of my missions as a writer, parent, leader, friend, Christ-follower, and caring individual is to plant seeds. Each seed is true to its own nature. When it grows, it matures and bears fruit. Some plants grow faster than others. Christ-followers plant a lot of seeds in their lifetime. Sometimes the seed takes and grows, and sometimes it doesn’t. I see things that concern me, but I can’t plant the seed until it’s the right time.

My farmer dad always said that it’s easy to be a farmer. He said, you only need to know three things. (!!!) What to do. When to do it, and How to do it. That tidbit of wisdom is true for many things. I know it is true in education. You can’t hammer facts into student’s brains when they don’t know the steps that lead up to it. You can’t teach multiplication facts until they’ve mastered addition and subtraction.

A seed planter knows what, when, and how. First the soil is prepared to receive the seed. As Christians, we do this through prayer, conversations, spending time together, reading the word, sharing Christ and whatever God brings along. We pray for opportunities to share, where God makes a way, an opening, to say something spiritually meaningful.

The art of knowing when or when not to speak is a skill refined by the Spirit. Our words flow forth in power when the Spirit of God goes before us, preparing the way for us to speak. At times, our silence says more than our words. We communicate best when we have learned to listen well and respond accordingly.

Twitter Exchange with Sy Garte

Sy Garte is a biochemist scientist, a former atheist turned Christian. He is somewhat new to the faith. God drew him in through curiosity and circumstances. He was raised by communists that didn’t entertain there being a God. Sy has written a book entitled The Works of His Hands and this is my review. His book can be purchased here on Amazon. He also is on several YouTube interviews.

One day I saw Sy’s tweet and took the opportunity to ask him something I’d been thinking about for quite some time.

Twitter, March 10, 2022

SY’s original tweet:

“Dawkins told his followers to reject tolerance for religion, and be evangelists for atheism. Now many new atheists do just that on social media, sometimes with vicious attacks on believers. My own goal is to buttress the faith of Christians, not to attack or convert atheists.”

I respond:

“One can’t help but wonder why Dawkin’s felt and others feel so strongly. When you were an atheist, did you crusade against belief in God, against those who believed? Did you view it as some sort of war? Or were you passive (to each his own), not adamant or defensive nor on the offense.”

SY’s answer:

“Very good question, Norma. Neither I, nor any of the atheists I knew ever went on the attack against people of faith. That is part of what makes “new atheism” new. It has become a crusade, and a very strange one, since it’s not for anything, only against God.”

Sy has to block some atheists when they’re hostile, belligerent, demeaning and/or hateful. Yet, they can’t hear it if their minds can’t or won’t absorb the unwelcome thought. If they’re blocked in their thinking, if they’ve already decided and made their choice to not believe, if they’re happy being an unbeliever, then you learn to pray for openings. The gospel is foolishness to the unbeliever…until a window to their soul starts to open a smidgen.

That is why the soil must be prepared, the seed must be planted at the optimum time–not in the wintertime–in the springtime, in the growing season, when its warm and the sun penetrates the earth. Then the plant is nurtured, irrigated, and left to God to grow until harvest. The growing season is a time of the elements working together to produce a healthy crop. If the agricultural practices are not correctly done then the crop will be puny and weak. ‪

You see, maybe it’s something you said months or years before that is heard coming out of your child’s mouth. Then you know the seed took root, grew, flowered and is bearing fruit. Maybe it’s someone you’re sharing life with on a regular basis. There’s wait time involved, a time of suggesting, growing, learning, apprehending, and sorting through. We may get impatient, but God calls us to be faithful. Ultimately, it’s God who grows until harvest time, and it’s our job to help out.

∴ ∴ ∴

I wish you well on your spiritual journey.

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What I Needed at Just the Perfect Moment

I felt unappreciated and worn down even though it was Christmas time.

The Christmas season had been a hard one.

I was glad to see the year end. It had been a strange one, full of events, hardships, sadness, and too few joys. The year had dispensed hurtful disappointments. Now it was ending—and none too soon, either.

Why did I have to feel this way? It seemed as if my spunkiness had gone down the drain, so to speak. My energy bank was depleted. My reserves spent. It was that time of year. I was putting a brave face on it but fissures in my exterior paint were showing evidence of wear and tear. A facade is only a facade, after all.

Feelings of sadness were awash over me.

Discouragement beset me. According to my earlier projections, it was disappointing. This wasn’t where I had hoped to be at this point in my life. I was trying to get a second career launched, with a writing and a care ministry for hurting women but all I encountered was wall after wall. I couldn’t seem to interest the people I needed to interest. Rejection has a way of pulling your spirits down until you sink like a puddle on the floor.

Outside circumstances compiled: a difficult, heartbreaking church transition, adjusting to the dimension that aging parents requires, friends with needs, the shuttering of a women’s ministry dear to my heart, being misunderstood by people I cared about, an inability to get my writing off the ground, and a daughter trying to figure it out—all taking a toll. Enough is enough, I thought.

I had hoped for more.

I had prayed for more. Yet ‘more’ had evaded me. Now there were new and bigger pressures. My time was compromised with endless doings. I wished for alone time. Time to sort it out, time with God, time to heal and breathe.

The desire for escape would rush at me, stop me, and take me back to years before where in my desert dark, unhappy events had isolated me from healing streams. I remembered its woeful tune, how hard it had been. No, I’m not going there. I never want to go there again, my heart cried that lonely Christmas morning. The tears had been unstoppable at times, when I was by myself. My inner misery took the ‘merry’ out of Christmas and the joy out of family gatherings.

At the end of the day, my family was saying our goodbyes in the kitchen at my folks’ house when my adult niece came over to me, a wrapped package in hand. She smiled at me; her eyes all a twinkle.

“This is for you, Aunt Norma,” she said.

I didn’t know why she was giving me something. We hadn’t done a gift exchange that Christmas. I carefully opened the gift. Inside was an antique-styled Scentsy, one of those delightful plug-in warmers, a wickless candle that holds scented fragrant waxes. Something that would look nice in my house. Her gift was feminine and sweet-looking—pink with scrolling rose and leaf designs. I loved it. I looked up and thanked her.

I paused for a second; then from my heart, I said, “I feel loved.”

And I did feel loved. Tears brimmed as we hugged. My heart healed a little bit that moment. Her gift, and the love behind it, met my internal need to feel special, wanted, and loved. I had been on empty but now love filled me.

How did she know I was in need of a loving gesture that day?

She didn’t know, but it meant so very, very much to this sad heart of mine that day. My niece got it right. Her giving me that gift at that specific time was one of those divinely orchestrated providential times where one heart ministers to another at just the perfect moment. I am grateful for the gift, the Scentsy Warmer, and grateful for the giver—my niece, dear gentle Annie, and grateful for the divine Giver—Jesus, the reason for the season, the Gift of gifts to every one of us.

A loving gift speaks to the heart. My niece blessed me with her heart.

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I wish you well on your spiritual journey.