SOWING SEED IN WINTER
Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. Psalm 126:5-6
It's winter. I must watch my tongue, to not become a murmuring Israelite. I don't like the winter, especially here in Oklahoma. I remember trying to plant spring bulbs my first winter here. It was only November, but no matter how I tried to pierce the soil in my pot, it would not give. It finally occurred to me, the soil must be frozen! I'm from the Houston area and you can plant almost all year long. It took all I had not to march inside and pack my bags to return home. I don't like the hardness of winter. I don't want frozen soil!
Maybe it's because it's a little too close to my own soil, the soil of my heart. The place my life plays out. I find my life, time and time again, not looking anything like I had imagined. I didn't sign up for this one. It's nothing like the brochure I had envisioned as a child. Mountains are beautiful and breathtaking from a distance. It's a whole different story when you stand at the base of one realizing you must overtake it, or be overtaken.
It seems I find my life constantly being confronted with another opportunity to dig up the hard ground and make room for the seed of Love to make His abode. It's not like He tells me in advance, rather I seem to wake up to the deafening sound of machinery as it tills its way into yet, another one of my hard places. This may be a new patch of land, but I've been here before. I've learned the hard way that I can't stop the tilling. He is a Master Gardener. He knows best. What once seemed like a restful place in my world is now being ravaged as dirt and weeds fly into the sky as the sharp blades of metal tear back yet another plot of land, that was once hidden.
I have two choices. I can refuse to become a part of the new planting or I can yield my heart and grab my bag of seed. I didn't ask for this kind of terrain in my life, nevertheless, He has unearthed it. What I have learned, in times past, is that He never leaves the work He began in me, before He has delighted me with the outcome. I am always grateful for the beauty that replaced what was once hard soil. He is faithful and true and I can always trust Him.
Many times it is through tears that I reach for His hand. He is not put off with my pain. He does not turn away from my questioning and reasoning. Rather, He waits for me to start the dialogue, the dialogue where I am totally raw with Him and free to release my emotions. It seems it is at those moments He has always drawn closest.
I have learned that He is to be trusted at all times. His ways with me have proven that over and over. I have learned that the journey is more enjoyable when I determine to plant seed along the way. No matter how rough the terrain, no matter how many tears may temporarily blind my vision, I will cast my seed of hope out upon the ruptured earth. Although I go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, I WILL return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with me!
He is Faithful. He is True.
Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. Psalm 126:5-6
It's winter. I must watch my tongue, to not become a murmuring Israelite. I don't like the winter, especially here in Oklahoma. I remember trying to plant spring bulbs my first winter here. It was only November, but no matter how I tried to pierce the soil in my pot, it would not give. It finally occurred to me, the soil must be frozen! I'm from the Houston area and you can plant almost all year long. It took all I had not to march inside and pack my bags to return home. I don't like the hardness of winter. I don't want frozen soil!
Maybe it's because it's a little too close to my own soil, the soil of my heart. The place my life plays out. I find my life, time and time again, not looking anything like I had imagined. I didn't sign up for this one. It's nothing like the brochure I had envisioned as a child. Mountains are beautiful and breathtaking from a distance. It's a whole different story when you stand at the base of one realizing you must overtake it, or be overtaken.
It seems I find my life constantly being confronted with another opportunity to dig up the hard ground and make room for the seed of Love to make His abode. It's not like He tells me in advance, rather I seem to wake up to the deafening sound of machinery as it tills its way into yet, another one of my hard places. This may be a new patch of land, but I've been here before. I've learned the hard way that I can't stop the tilling. He is a Master Gardener. He knows best. What once seemed like a restful place in my world is now being ravaged as dirt and weeds fly into the sky as the sharp blades of metal tear back yet another plot of land, that was once hidden.
I have two choices. I can refuse to become a part of the new planting or I can yield my heart and grab my bag of seed. I didn't ask for this kind of terrain in my life, nevertheless, He has unearthed it. What I have learned, in times past, is that He never leaves the work He began in me, before He has delighted me with the outcome. I am always grateful for the beauty that replaced what was once hard soil. He is faithful and true and I can always trust Him.
Many times it is through tears that I reach for His hand. He is not put off with my pain. He does not turn away from my questioning and reasoning. Rather, He waits for me to start the dialogue, the dialogue where I am totally raw with Him and free to release my emotions. It seems it is at those moments He has always drawn closest.
I have learned that He is to be trusted at all times. His ways with me have proven that over and over. I have learned that the journey is more enjoyable when I determine to plant seed along the way. No matter how rough the terrain, no matter how many tears may temporarily blind my vision, I will cast my seed of hope out upon the ruptured earth. Although I go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, I WILL return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with me!
He is Faithful. He is True.
No comments:
Post a Comment