“Those winter squash vines have grown a foot since that rain two days ago,” Keith mentioned as we drove into town one Tuesday morning.  “You can tell because the new growth is a different shade of green.”

            Indeed it is, I thought.  When spring comes, the new growth on the live oaks is a brighter shade I like to call “spring green.”  Even new growth on the roses is a different shade—a deep red.  New growth in plants is obvious.

            The New Testament is far too full of agricultural comparisons for me to pass this one by.  We are told ten times in the epistles to “grow” (auxano).  I may not be a Greek scholar, but I can run a program or look in a good, old-fashioned concordance for the same Greek word and where and how it’s used.  My question today is this:  is it just as obvious when we have new growth?  It ought to be.  So what will people see when I “grow” in this manner?

            2 Cor 9:10 tells me that the “fruits of my righteousness” will grow.  That certainly ought to be an obvious indicator.  If I am still struggling mightily, not just once in a while but constantly, to overcome the sins that had me captive before my conversion, then I am not growing as I ought to.  The time factor may be different for each one of us, but things should be improving.  I should become strong instead of fragile, someone who someday can help those who came from my identical circumstances.  If I cannot reach that point, something is amiss.

            Paul told the Colossians that their “knowledge” should be growing, 1:10.  When the same old chestnuts are tossed out in class, things that have been proved wrong by simple Bible study for years, I wonder if anyone is growing in knowledge.  Sitting on a pew will not do it.  It takes work, and it takes time.  It cannot be done in “14 minutes a day.”  I despair sometimes of the church ever reaching the point that it is once again known for its Bible knowledge as I see my Bible classes dwindling in number, and only frequented by older women.  When the new growth is only seen on the older vines, what does that say about our future?

            2 Cor 10:15 says my faith should be growing.  Do I show that with an ability to face trials in a more steady fashion than I used to?  Or do my words and actions, decrying God and questioning His love, show that I am no farther along than I was ten years ago?  Have I learned to accept His will and His ways, even when I do not understand them, or do I demand an explanation as if He were my child instead of the other way around?

            2 Pet 3:18 says we are to be growing in grace.  This one may be the most difficult one to assess, but think of this:  what does God’s grace excuse and pardon in you?  How patient was He when you were rebelling outright instead of just making ignorant and foolish mistakes? Now, how much grace do you grant to others who absentmindedly get in your way, who have their own problems on their minds and are hardly aware of your presence?  Your neighbors, your colleagues, fellow shoppers, the driver in the car ahead of you—if you are not showing the grace of God to these in an obvious way you have not grown in grace as you should have.  If you are looking for a reason to sigh loudly, to complain, to blow that horn, instead of searching diligently for a way to offer grace as it was offered to you, you need to think again about your progress in the gospel.   I do too.

            All of us, no matter how long we have been Christians, should be showing growth.  In every area of our lives all of us should be sporting a different shade of green.
 
Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. Eph 4:15-16
 
Dene Ward

When you pull up any sort of plant by the roots, you are likely to pull up some soil as well, and often some wigglers you never knew were there.
 
           As I pulled up the more deeply rooted weeds around those morning glories, I often pulled up a few earthworms.  Earthworms are a good sign.  They work to cultivate the soil and leave it well fertilized.  Generally speaking, the more earthworms you find, the better your crop and the prettier your flowers.  But a few times I pulled up some ugly stuff--things that were not beneficial to the plants, things that would feed on the roots, and eventually kill them. 

            I couldn’t help but think of the “underground” among God’s people.  I think one of the most comforting things to know is that there are a few earthworms out there in the garden, good people quietly seeing to the things they can, visiting, calling, advising, teaching, and in the process defusing a few bombs before anyone even knows they are there.  They take care of the minor problems so the elders have the time to deal with the major ones.  In fact, because of their work, some of the major problems never come to pass.  They don’t worry about not getting their fair share of attention from those men either.  They are spiritually mature enough not to need constant coddling. 

            On the other hand, there might very well be a few uglies underground, roiling the waters, attempting to stir up controversy and dissatisfaction.  They often disguise themselves as earthworms, “just trying to make people think,” “playing Devil’s Advocate so we can get a helpful dialogue going.”  Those sorts of dialogues need a carefully chosen audience.  Instead of being careful of the babes who may not be ready for such a discussion, they are often actively seeking to turn their vulnerable minds from the simple Truth of the Gospel toward themselves and their own pet beliefs.  At best, they are careless of the souls of others.  When the church must take its attention away from its mission of saving the lost in order to pander to the egos of the bitter and undo the carelessness of the inconsiderate, the Devil does indeed have an advocate, and he is in control.  The more minions he has working underground, the fewer lost souls will be reached, and the fewer saved ones will make it to the end of the road.

            Think about that the next time you have a conversation, either in the church or with a lost soul out in the world.  What just reared its head above the soil line? Did it help a soul find the Lord, or did it raise antipathy toward the body for which Christ died?  Whose side are you working for? 
 
Now I beseech you brethren, mark those who are causing divisions and occasions of stumbling contrary to the doctrine which you learned, and turn away from them.  For they who are such serve not our Lord Jesus Christ, but their own bellies, and by their smooth and fair speech, they beguile the hearts of the innocent, Rom 16:17,18.
 
Dene Ward

As I worked my way around that morning glory bed, I discovered some interesting things.  We had originally planted the seeds in concentric circles, and then as the vines grew we trained them to head to the center of the bed toward the huge metal trellis, a cow panel Keith had woven along half an old antenna pole and then stood up on its end toward the sky, fifteen feet high.  Every year they come back, but they aren’t in circles any longer.  They grow up wherever the seeds fall from the dried out blooms the year before.  The more weeds I pulled, the better I could see the vines, and a few surprises awaited me.

            More than once I had to be careful not to pull out a morning glory along with the weed.  The long spindly vines often clung to the weeds, and I had to carefully unwind them.  Sometimes as I unwound them I discovered that they were headed in the wrong direction—to the outer edge of the circle rather than toward the trellis.  These I carefully turned around until they were pointing the right way.

            Other times the vine was too tightly wound around the weed, using it as a trellis, despite the fact that it was nestled, supposedly safely, among its brother vines.  The only way I could get it loose was to break it off.  Those I was especially careful with, laying them along the ground pointing toward the true trellis, and watering them deeply.  Maybe they will survive and maybe not, but the only hope they had was the amputation.  Maybe they will live but their growth be stunted.  Maybe they will mend and grow again.  Time will tell and we all know that healing often hurts.

            And then there were the morning glories I found totally outside the bed, headed in no direction at all.  What to do?  Well, I guess I could have picked up a spade and a hoe and made the bed large enough to include them, but that would have been ridiculous unless we eventually wanted our whole yard to be one morning glory patch.  So I pulled a few, the ones that looked iffy to begin with, and transplanted others.  Will they live?  I don’t know, but they would have been mown down next weekend if I had done nothing.

            Another thing I discovered underneath all those weeds was new morning glories.  Some vines were only a couple of inches long.  But now they will have a chance.  They will not be choked out by the weeds that steal the nutrients from the soil and shade the sun.  New growth cannot happen if you don’t get rid of those weeds.

            Spend a few moments today thinking about the metaphors here.  Are you clinging to something besides the Lord?  Have you wandered away from His care?  Are you trying to make His flower bed bigger than He made it?  And, ultimately, are you headed in the right direction, toward the one trellis that reaches for the sky?
 
And he answered and said, He who sows the good seed is the Son of man, and the field is the world, and the good seed, these are the sons of the kingdom; and the weeds are the sons of the evil one; and the enemy that sowed them is the devil; and the harvest is the end of the world, and the reapers are the angels.  As therefore the weeds are gathered up and burned with fire, so shall it be in the end of the world, Matt 13:37-40.
           
Dene Ward

The vegetable garden has taken all my time lately and the flower beds are showing it.  A few days ago I started the weeding, content to make a quarter “pie slice” in the circular morning glory bed.  The next day I took forty-five minutes out of my morning to finish. 

            The vines were doing fine once they got to the trellis, climbing over 12 feet high by now and blooming every morning, but the bed itself was ankle high not only in morning glories but also moneywort, wood sorrel, snake root, castor beans, and purslane, among other colorfully named weeds, plus a little grass as well.  I started with the previous day’s pie slice, amazed that so many of those rascals had once again sprung up overnight, but that was easily handled in about five minutes.

            I learned some things as I spent the time kneeling in the damp grass.  First, whenever you get down on their level, the dogs think you are ready to play.  Instantly the two of them were at my elbows, tails wagging, inundating me with doggy breath, and grunting for my time and affection.  So I gave them a few requisite pats, hugs, and praises as I meandered away from the bed before they could decide to throw themselves on their backs in the middle of it, begging for a belly rub.

            Finally they were satisfied and I started pulling weeds in earnest.  With my diminished vision I have to concentrate to see what I am doing.  I finished up another slice and stood up to catch my breath and my equilibrium.  When I looked back down I could hardly believe my eyes.  I thought I just weeded that section, but no, all I had done was pull up the moneywort.  The wood sorrel was still there, wiggling its little leaves at me in what I was sure was smug satisfaction.  So I bent once again and pulled it all up. When I finished I sat back on my haunches and looked it over.  Now I saw the snake root, not much of it to be sure, but it was odd that I had not seen it at all when it was by far the tallest weed in the bed. 

            Suddenly I made sense of it all.  I had to focus so hard to see one thing I was blinding myself to the others.  I looked for more of the taller plants and there were the rest of the snakeroots as if they were waving a flag at me saying, “Here we are!”  Then I looked for the purslanes’ creeping red stems and shiny green leaves and there they were, ready for the pulling.  Then the castor beans, and the cow vetch, and the grass—well, you get the point.  You will only see what you are looking for.

            Do you wonder why you cannot see your own faults?  Maybe it is because you are focused on everyone else’s.

            Do you wonder why you are so stressed about life?  Maybe it is because you are too focused on it—on paying the bills, handling the schedules, dealing with work problems—and not focused on the things that really matter.  Jesus tells us in more than one passage that focus on the wrong things can cost us our souls.

            Are you so focused on your own problems that you cannot see the problems of others?  Maybe that is why you are so down in the dumps all the time. 

            On the other hand, do you focus so much on your own failures that you cannot see your successes?  Maybe you have grown by leaps and bounds in the past few years.  You will never know it if all you do is tear yourself up over today’s failures.  Guess what?  Tomorrow morning I will have to pull a few more weeds from that morning glory bed, but I doubt it will take forty-five minutes.  The fact that a few grew back does not mean I should never have bothered to pull them all in the first place.

            Work on your focus today.  Train yourself in what to look for. Make sure you are seeing the things you need to see, rather than the things you want to see.  You will never reach a point where there are no weeds to pull, but you can totally eradicate some and make the others far less common.
 
For if these things (faith, virtue, knowledge, self-control, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, love) are yours and abound, they make you to be neither idle nor unfruitful unto the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.  For he who lacks these things is blind, seeing only what is near, having forgotten the cleansing from his old sins.  Wherefore brethren, give the more diligence to make your calling and election sure; for if you do these things, you shall never stumble, for thus shall be richly supplied unto you the entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, 1 Pet 1:8-11.
 
Dene Ward

Since late last year it has begun to look like things are on a downward trend.  Before long there may very well be more surgeries, even riskier than before.  I usually cope fairly well, but one morning the blues hit particularly hard.  I was out with Chloe and came upon the morning glories.  We saw more blooms that day than any before, at least five shades of blue and purple, and a lilac-throated white as well.

            Why I did it, I don’t know, but I began assigning names to each blossom, names of people who have been special blessings to me during this journey toward blindness.  At first I thought I would run out of names before I ran out of blooms.  Higher and higher my eyes roamed, spotting another and another, and yet another bloom ten feet above the ground.  When I ran out of blooms I still had a dozen names left over.

            Suddenly my steps became springier and my mood brightened.  Look how many people have been there for me, driving me all over, picking up medications for me, sending cards, calling, bringing meals, giving me an encouraging word, and often a hug, even helping me with some of the earlier expenses that the insurance company wouldn’t touch, and always praying. 

            “My grace is sufficient,” Jesus told Paul when he had prayed for the thorn to be removed.  “It doesn’t need to be removed; you just have to trust that I will help you through it.”  He has certainly given me ample help.   

            Too many times, instead of looking up to count the blooms, I am looking down to count the weeds.  Do you know what?  There were far more blooms than weeds that morning, and it is so in my life as well.  In fact, some of those blooms once were weeds, but through the grace of the Lord working in our lives, the two of us managed to make a new relationship that we both count as blooms now.  In some cases, the grace that made this happen were the very trials we prayed to have removed.

            So today, as you walk through your life’s garden, don’t look down and count the weeds.  Look up and count the blossoms that hang from the vine of Christ’s grace, the grace he promised would help you overcome, would make you stronger, and would cover any weaknesses you still might have after giving your all.  Put a name on every one of those blossoms.  I imagine you will have names left over too, names you forget about when your mind stays too long in the weeds, people who have made the hard times easier to bear, and who will hold you up when life beats too hard for you to stand on your own. 

            God is the reason those blooms are there, as He sheds yet more grace into your life, promising that nothing will happen that is too hard for you to bear, and that you will never have to bear it alone.        
 
Fear not for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,  Isa 41:10.
 
Dene Ward

It has become more difficult each year to find the varieties of tomato and pepper plants we want for our garden.  So we invested in some grow lights and have grown 80-90% from seed since then.           

            When it comes time to transplant them into the garden, they must first become inured to the outdoors.  We set them out in the sunlight, which in this subtropical clime is more direct than the rest of the country, for an hour the first time, and then move them to the shade.  Every day they get more sunlight until they are ready for full sun all day.

            Despite all this care, we lose a few each year.  One morning, as I was putting out the last of the pepper plants, I reflected on how tenacious the weeds were.  If I had been transplanting them, I wouldn’t have had to worry.  Even weeds half an inch tall had a root system five times their length and never wilted in the sun, while the foot high vegetables not only wilted, but often fell over.  In fact, this year we simply threw away half a dozen plants because it was obvious they would never stand up to the rigors of garden growth.  They were prima donnas, requiring high maintenance to simply stay alive.  I doubt they would have ever produced fruit so they were not worth the trouble.

            As we grow spiritually, I fear too many of us have become prima donna plants.  When I see parents treating their girls like princesses, giving in to their every wish and making sure that life is always exciting and fun, I cringe to think what their poor husbands will be going through to keep them happy, and wonder how they will ever be able to stand by him in a crisis—they will simply fall apart.  In all areas, growing up is about becoming stronger, not about gaining more privileges.

            God expects the same from his children.  We are supposed to become stronger, able to withstand a spiritual beating without losing our faith, willing even to face persecution for the sake of the gospel.  God does shelter us when we are young in the faith, promising never to give us more than we can handle, but I think some of us are trying to hang on to our spiritual immaturity, thinking that as long as we cannot handle a trial, God will never send one!  I am afraid it doesn’t work that way.

            God has always had a schedule for his people.  He says that we should be able to teach “by reason of time.”  He has always pictured his people in agricultural terms, vineyards and oliveyards especially, and everyone knows that the harvest comes on a schedule—you can’t put it off.  “The field is white unto harvest,” he told his apostles.  He often seemed to despair when they hadn’t grown quite fast enough to suit him:  “Have I been with you so long and still you do not know me?”  Just as we expect our children to become strong enough to handle life by the time they are grown, God expects the same from us.  It is simply wrong to expect him to pamper us forever.

            When God despairs of a people ever being able to stay faithful, he uproots them and plants something else.  It may look like a weed to us.  I am sure the Jews thought that God would never settle for a Gentile, but he most certainly did.  And he will dig us up and toss us out for someone we might never have given the time of day if we don’t develop a good enough root system to withstand the scorching heat of life’s noonday sun and the floods of a spiritual downpour.  He will simply look out into the field and find a weed that can take it, that doesn’t have to be treated like a hothouse flower to survive.  Weeds, you see, are simply uncultivated flowers--wildflowers--and he can make them into the beautiful plant he wants, the one that can stand the weather and stay faithful.
 
But if some of the branches were broken off, and you, although a wild olive shoot, were grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing root of the olive tree, do not be arrogant toward the branches. If you are, remember it is not you who support the root, but the root that supports you. Then you will say, "Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in." That is true. They were broken off because of their unbelief, but you stand fast through faith. So do not become proud, but fear. For if God did not spare the natural branches, neither will he spare you. Rom 11:17-21.
 
Dene Ward

In Florida “winter” means very little, but a year or so ago we had a different sort of winter—long cold spells with lows below freezing and highs only in the 40s, and frosts as late as April.  Snow fell in the panhandle and in the north central peninsula.  Usually we are sorry to see the heat return, but that year we were longing for it.

            The spring was different too.  The azaleas bloomed two months later, and all at the same time, so profusely you couldn’t even see the branches.  The blueberries had more fruit on them than any time in the five years past.  The hostas not only came up again but multiplied, sending up four plants where each one plant sat the year before.  The spring wildflowers were beautiful, turning fields first into blankets of blue and lavender, then red and maroon, and finally pink and white.  The oak pollen fell so thickly the lawn looked like wall to wall brown carpeting.  And the garden produced better than it had in years.

            I wondered, could one thing have to do with the other?  Could a long, hard winter be the cause of good crops and beautiful flowers in the spring?

            And they arrested [Peter and John] and put them in custody until the next day because it was already evening.  But many of those who heard the word believed and the number of men came to about five thousand, Acts 4:3,4.  That is not the only case in the New Testament where rapid growth of the kingdom followed hard on the heels of persecution.  A long hard winter of trial always seemed to make for a springtime of growth among God’s people. 

            Then there is the personal aspect.  I have seen so many times how a personal trial has led to spiritual growth in a Christian.  I have experienced it myself.  Something about trial inures us to the pains that might otherwise cost us our souls.  We grow stronger little by little, gradually learning the lessons of faith, endurance and strength in the service of God.

            That may be why I cringe when I see a young mother turn every little scrape on the knee or cut on the finger into a life-threatening crisis worthy of the loudest wails, instead of helping her child learn to laugh it off.  I have seen too many of those children grow into men and women who complain about everything that does not go their way.   If it’s okay to whine and cry like the world is ending when you fall and skin your knees, why isn’t it okay to scream at other drivers who get in your way?  If it’s okay to pout and mope when you don’t get to play your favorite video game, why isn’t it okay to complain long and loud when the boss asks you to work overtime?  If it’s okay to pitch a fit when some mean adult tells you to straighten up, why isn’t it okay to stand in the parking lot complaining about the church, the preachers, the elders, and anyone else who doesn’t see things your way?

            God needs people who are strong, who can take pain and suffering for His sake, who understand that their way doesn’t really matter if it is not His way, and that the good of the kingdom and its mission may have nothing to do with them having an easy, perfect life here in this world, but everything to do with a perfect life in the next. 

            Just as with everything else, our culture is affecting us.  The strong silent type who can take the worst the world has to offer and keep going is no longer the hero.  Instead we reward jerks and boors and idolize intemperance.  Prodigality and lavish lifestyles are our measure of success; striking back is our measure of character, and throwing tantrums is our measure of strength. 

            I see a day coming when the church will once again be in the middle of a long, hard winter of persecution.  The way we are going we may not survive it at all, let alone have a bountiful spring, because trials and persecution only work to build strength when you learn from them.  They only produce character when you have the toughness to take the bad with the good without whining about it.

            What kind of spring will you have next year?
 
And not only so but we rejoice in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation works steadfastness; and steadfastness approvedness; and approvedness hope; and hope puts not to shame, because the love of God has been shed abroad in our hearts through the Holy Spirit which was given unto us,  Rom 5:3-5.
 
Dene Ward

It’s spring and that means the tarps that have been protecting things for several months need to be laid out to dry, folded, and put up.  It’s spring and the plastic sheeting needs to be set up over the small, early, garden plot because we will have another frost or two.  It’s spring and that means the breezes are blowing and nothing will stay where you put it for any length of time at all.

            In late February Keith was out in the field laying out the tarps and plastic to dry in the sun, and trying to weigh down the corners with buckets and tools and anything else that came to hand.  He had managed three or four all by himself before dinner, and then I walked out with him afterward to see the freshly tilled garden and the early plot he had set out.  He bent to secure one corner of plastic just as the breeze increased and blew it right out of his hand.  I leaned down to help on my end only to have it, too, blown from my grasp.  He got hold of his corner as I chased mine around in a circle.  Finally we each had a corner and bent to secure them with handfuls of moisture-heavy garden dirt, only to have a particularly strong gust blow it free yet again.

            Three or four tries later we had the early plot covered and secured, the plastic stretched over a line three feet off the ground that ran down the middle to make a small greenhouse of sorts.  We were clothes-pinning the center where the “door” of our teepee met on either end.  Even that took a few tries followed by pinched faces and hunched shoulders waiting for the breeze to once again undo it all.  It held!

            “Whew!” he exclaimed.  “This kind takes prayer and fasting.” I looked at him with a rueful smile, and wondered how many prayers he must have prayed before I got there to help.

            You know, of course, that he was referring to Matt 17:21.  The disciples could not cast a demon out of a boy, but Jesus could.  For their lack of faith they received a stern rebuke, yet Jesus added that it was a particularly difficult demon to cast out.  Sometimes you will have to work harder than others, he seemed to mean by his comment about prayer and fasting.

            And occasionally overcoming a temptation is more difficult than at other times.  Sometimes it’s the circumstances.  If you are tired, or in pain, or grieving, or in any number of other situations, you may have a more difficult time passing the test.  Sometimes it’s the test itself.  Some things bother us more than others, pushing the buttons that most easily cause a reaction.  Sometimes it’s the “help.”  How many times has someone offered the advice to “calm down,” only to have that very advice cause the opposite reaction in spades?

            But notice this about that narrative in the gospels:  Jesus still expected those disciples to have mastered the demon and tossed it out.  Yes, it’s a hard one, he said, but you could have done it if you had enough faith.

            And so can we, if we are in the correct frame of mind.  There is always a way of escape.  It is never more than we can handle.  It doesn’t matter what the test is, what the circumstances are, or how many other well- or even ill-meaning people get in the way. So here are a few suggestions that might help all of us.

            Know your hot buttons and avoid them.  How many times do the Proverbs call people fools who go blundering about their lives without even a thought where they might be headed?  How many other times are the “fools” the ones who go to difficult places with the arrogant notion they won’t be trapped like everyone else?

          If you cannot avoid these difficult situations, then prepare yourself before you get there.  If that means looking at yourself in the mirror and giving yourself a good talking to before you leave the house, then do it.  If it means praying before you leave—always a good idea—do it. 

          Then, don’t forget what you did the minute the door shuts behind you.  Nothing changes because your surroundings did.  If it means quoting scripture all the way through the situation itself, or singing hymns, do it.  Do whatever it takes.

          Don’t blame your failure on anyone else.  “I was doing fine until you came along and…” won’t change the bottom line.  You blew it.

          Do not give yourself an out of any kind.  “He deserved it [my tirade],” would cause you a lot of pain if it were said of you and God followed through on it—we all “deserve it” whatever “it” we might be talking about.  Don’t feel sorry for yourself because it was “hard.”  Do not ever excuse yourself if you failed.  You will never improve if you do.

          Know yourself.  Know what might take “prayer and fasting” to overcome.  God expects it of you, just as He did those apostles.  He expects you to succeed.  And you can.
 
Save yourself like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, like a bird from the hand of the fowler. Prov 6:5
 
Dene Ward

We recently discovered a new wildflower, a fifteen foot long vine with delicate, featherlike leaves, and bright red tubular blooms with a star-shaped flare.  Keith brought some home from the woods and stuck them in several plastic nursery pots.  Now, several weeks later, they are doing just fine.  When I looked them up and found their name, Cypress Vine, I also discovered that they are often sold as garden annuals under the name Red Morning Glory, but that they proved so hardy they have spread to the wild, including the wild just across my fence.
 
           Hardy indeed when all you have to do is take a cutting, stick it in the dirt, and water it until it roots.  Not every plant is so easy.  Sometimes you must root them in water.  Sometimes you must get a product like Rootone, dipping the ends of the cutting into that powder before you try to root it.  But all transplants have this in common—they deserve special care.  Transplant shock can claim even the strongest of specimens without it.

            The same is true when we convert a sinner to the gospel.  Transplanting him from a world of sin to the rarefied air of the redeemed can be more than his system can handle.  So he needs special care.  Too many times I have seen churches baptize a man then say, “Whew!  Now he’s okay,” and leave him standing in the midst of surroundings so alien to him that he withers and dies almost immediately.  It may not seem alien to us, but we are used to it.  We took root many years ago and now we stand strong and able to endure temptations, trials, and even the mere tedium of life.  Why do we expect a cutting from the world to instantly take root and blossom?  We treat our garden flowers far better than our new brethren.

            Even a cutting described as “hardy” needs daily attention.  I expect my Cypress vines to bloom vigorously this time next year.  But I don’t expect them to suddenly grow to their usual fifteen feet covered with flaming red flowers before then.  Why are we so impatient with our new brothers and sisters in the Lord?  It is worth it to take the time with them, nurturing their growth as we would our own gardens, so that we can bask in their beauty just a little while down the road. 

            Agriculture is hard work.  Jesus talked about laborers in his vineyard, not people simply strolling through, taking the tour so they could have a free wine tasting at the end.  You don’t get to taste his wine when you don’t work to care for his grapes.
 
Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you." Isa 35:3,4.
 
Dene Ward

I was beginning to think it would never happen.  We had one brief—very brief—cool snap in November, but then summer returned.  We were still running the air conditioner in early January.  Finally, the third week of the new year we had several days with lows in the low thirties, one where we never topped 41, and even a few snow flurries.  Now, I said to myself.  Now I can prune the roses.
 
           You never prune the roses until they become dormant.  I was not sure three or four days of cold was enough to put them in that state, but surely they were close simply because it was time, I reasoned, and the cold was not predicted to last beyond another 48 hours so my window of opportunity was small.  So I took my clippers and went at it, cropping the thinner, more pliable stems and leaves—including those with some new red growth from the warm week before—and gave them the half to two-thirds haircut they need annually.  It will be an anxious few weeks before I find out if I ruined them.

            Dormancy is an interesting thing.  Plants, or seeds right after harvest, go to sleep.  For plants it happens with adverse conditions like low temperatures, drought, or low light.  In order to conserve energy, the plant stops growing and sheds softer tissues, replacing them with hard wood, scales, and dried tissues.  It puts on this suit of armor to protect itself.  When conditions change, warmer temperatures or enough water to live on for example, the plant wakes up and resumes its normal growth.

            After mulling it over one morning I decided that is our problem.  We never go dormant.  I defy you to study the Word of God deeply enough, and meditate long enough to reach new insights, by taking just five minutes a day to “read a chapter.”  It won’t work.  But instead of finding that precious time—instead of making it—we make excuses instead.  We stay too busy with life to slow down and spend quiet time with God.

            And Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening...Gen 24:63.

            I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds, Ps 77:12.

            My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise, Ps 119:148.

            Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer, Ps 19:14.

            Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things, Phil 4:8.

            And that is just a fraction of the verses that tell us we need to spend far more time with God than we do.  How many times did Jesus spend all night praying?  And if you have not had your prayers drift off into meditation, that may well be why you sit there thinking, “I could never pray that long.”

            Look back at the advantages of dormancy.  Dormancy is a period of rest for the plant.  God knew we needed rest.  He gave His people a day no other culture had, the Sabbath.  When everyone else was working dawn to dusk just to survive in an ancient world, He took care of their basic survival that day (as when the manna did not spoil) so they could rest, so they could spend time with family and with Him.

            Dormancy provides the plant with “a suit of armor,” protection during adverse conditions.  If you wait until the crisis arises to consider your actions, you will invariably make poor decisions.  Time to think ahead, recognizing your weaknesses and planning your “way of escape” can be critical to your spiritual survival.  Meditation will give you that time to prepare yourself.

            Dormancy gives the plant “anesthesia” for the painful tasks of pruning and grafting.  Looking at yourself in the mirror is hard enough without being forced to in the middle of a spiritual emergency.  Time alone to carefully consider and face your challenges can make the difference in whether you make the changes you need to or not.  In the face of rebuke, too many of us consider it too painful to even consider the notion that we might need a little pruning of the character to please God.

            And then there is the greatest benefit of all:  time to develop a
relationship with your Creator.  I knew a young couple that broke off their engagement after realizing that they had absolutely nothing to talk about.  A wise young couple, I think.  If you haven’t spent enough time in His Word to have anything to talk to God about, don’t be surprised if He doesn’t break it off with you.
 
I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands. ​I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land-- Selah, Ps 143:5-6.
 
Dene Ward