By Christine Gordon
I didn’t even notice them the first time I walked to the shed. We’d finally had our last spring freeze and I was eager to put summer flower bulbs in the ground before the rains began. I scurried into the gray shed in the corner of my yard, passing the redbud with its lovely dark pink flowers on my left. As I twirled around with a shovel in one hand and gloves in the other, I finally saw them. Three peony stems had pushed themselves up through the ground and reached a height of six or seven inches. They sat quietly beneath the redbud tree, camouflaged by the surrounding grass and dirt.
I’d planted the peonies in early spring the year before. They were in a part of the yard that lacked good soil, so their survival was questionable. I surrounded the bulbs with better soil and fertilizer, watered them faithfully, and checked on them like a new mother. They were blooming when I bought them and struggled to stay green in the Midwest summer heat. I enjoyed their sweet smell and delicate layers while they lasted and hoped the next year they’d last longer. Then I promptly forgot about them.
Paul wrote to the saints in Corinth with a concern for their disunity in 1 Corinthians 3. Apparently, those in the church were giving their loyalty to Paul, Apollos, or other leaders instead of being united under loyalty to Christ. Paul describes his preaching of the gospel and Apollos’s training of the young Christians in verses six and seven: “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.” The workers were necessary but not sufficient for the growth of the fragile plants, the new believers. Only God could transform dry seeds into new, green plants.
First-century farmers were acutely aware of their minimal part in the growth of their crops. Of course they prepared the soil and paid attention to the weather. But compared to the power of God, their own agency in crop production was quite limited. Farmers now enjoy specialized tractors and high-tech fertilizers. And yet, still only God can make a seed sprout and grow.
The surprising thing? He does just that.
Just as Paul planted the seed of the gospel in the hearts of the Corinthians, so we plant seeds now. And God faithfully grows them. We plant gospel seeds in the hearts of our friends when we share a sermon that encouraged us. We sow in the soil of our co-workers and neighbors when we tell them what we believe about the cross. We plant seeds in our brothers and sisters at church when we teach first-grade Sunday school to busy little bodies. And God does something mysterious with our efforts that only he can do—he brings growth.
Calvin comments on the work of pastors in their preaching: “... after casting the seed into the ground, they [ministers] give help to the earth as much as is in their power, until it bring forth what it has conceived: but as for making their labor actually productive, that is a miracle of divine grace -- not a work of human industry.” If this is true, the preacher’s part is to faithfully sow the seed and trust God to do his work of growth. The same is true for all of us who teach and share God’s word. We plant and we trust. We sow and we wait. We’re not told which seeds will sprout or which soil the seed will land in (Mark 4:1-20). We’re told that God is faithful to grow his little plants.
Jesus speaks of seed and its growth in Mark 4:26-29: And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.” The man sows the seed, then sleeps. Why? Because he can’t do more than that. Once he’s done sowing, he must trust God to do the growing. We teach our children that Jesus died for their sins and rose again. Then we wait. We pray. We hope. But only God by his Holy Spirit can take that seed of gospel truth and turn it into something that grows into faith in their hearts. We explain to our neighbor that they are made in the image of God and are valuable and precious because of his care for them. Then we trust that while we sleep and rise, sleep and rise, God will do his work of growing the seed we sowed.
But how does the growth happen? Jesus says the sower doesn’t know.
“He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how.” The sower does his job and goes to bed. While he sleeps, the seed sprouts. The sower wakes up, lives through another day, and the tiny sprout grows. All of this happens without the knowledge or help of the sower.
Which brings me back to my peonies.
I planted and watered them, sure. But then I forgot about them. Fall rains came and went. Winter ice storms covered the ground. Spring sun warmed the soil, and God made them grow. Their ugly, twisted stems (have you seen peony stems?) will grow into the most delicately layered flowers in the garden.
You may not know if your child hears the gospel truth you tell them when they’re hurting. Tell them anyway. Plant the seed of God’s word and trust him to grow it. You may not know if the Christian book you shared with your neighbor will make any difference in their life. Give it to them anyway. Parents, pastors, and Sunday school teachers, neighbors and friends who work and hope for growth in the kingdom: Trust that the one who wrote the word will grow the seed. Sleep and rise, work and play. Forget where you’ve planted, plant in new soils. God will do his secret work of growing his little plants, and one day when you’ve forgotten your meager efforts, God, the perfect gardener, may surprise you with beautiful new growth in the heart of your neighbor.
Christine Gordon (MATS, Covenant Theological Seminary) is wife to Michael and mother of three. She is the cofounder of At His Feet Studies and a visiting instructor at Covenant Theological Seminary.
So timely for the start of a new RUF year 🌾