This must look like a pretty silly place to plant a garden. The ground is dry and cracked and covered in weeds. The sky is either filled with clouds so thick that darkness bathes the land, or the sun is beating down so hot that it fries up any attempt of growth.
And yet, here I am, planting seeds. Sometimes I manage to dig a decent hole and get the seed deep into the ground. Other times I trip and stumble over the massive weed growth. The seed goes flying and I can only pray that it makes it to its intended destination. Some people might get discouraged, doing this day after day, never seeing the green shoots springing up from the ground. But that is not my job. I am the seed planter. I sow one field and then move on to another, never seeing the actual growth. But that’s okay, because I know that the Gardener is here.
In the Gardener’s hands this dry and cracked land becomes rich and fertile. The weeds shrivel up at the sound of His voice. He looks at the sky and cleansing rain pours over the earth. He turns the sun, that scorching sun, into a source of gentle light, warming the ground.
And then He speaks in that gentle voice, that voice that works like a lullaby on my heart and yet has such authority—He speaks in that voice and the seeds begin to sprout. Slowly at first, but soon they shoot up through the ground. And this piece of earth, this dry, cracked, neglected, and forgotten piece of land becomes a garden. The green shoots cover the ground, leaving no bare spots. And then the Gardener speaks again. He whispers and the flowers unfold. The field is blanketed in color. Colors so bright that the earth seems to be singing with joy. If you listen closely you can almost hear it. Praise for the Gardener and His wonderful works.
The Gardener keeps tending this piece of land, never leaving it alone, never sleeping on the job. Always working, encouraging the flowers to grow. And eventually they do grow. Grow so much that one day they have seeds of their own. And the Gardener blows across the earth, sending a gentle breeze. The seeds flee the garden, falling on the earth near and far. And new gardens begin.
Oh yes, this must look like a silly place to plant a garden. But to the One who uses the foolish (in this case silly) things to shame the wise, there’s no better place for a garden than this dry old piece of land, right here.
God gave me this story while I was looking at the rose my team leader Andrew painted…
…right next to the Hindu shrine. My prayer is that the seeds we're planting with this family will one day bloom like the flower on this wall!
