Planting Seeds

4/14/25

I was reading about planting seeds of faith this weekend. It was freeing to read about how it isn't really our job to save people, convince them, or secure their place in eternity. It's our job to plant the seeds. I have felt torn and disappointed over the last few years, that I haven't been in a God-focused relationship with a God-fearing and God-loving man, with a surrendered heart. I have churned and beat myself up over the way the faith of my children have been shaped and impacted by the relationship I have had with their father while they have had so many formidable years. It feels like the greatest failure that they haven't all verbalized they have personal relationships with God and that I do not see Him working in their daily lives.

Then, this weekend, I read a perspective-shifting devotional, and it was beautiful. My grandfather planted his seeds of faith in me. I saw how he lived, loved, and served. I saw how he studied the Bible in quiet stillness and how he bowed his head when no one was looking. Consistently. Day after day. Alone and with others. His faith and relationship with God have been the single most impactful thing on my faith—and the faith of everyone who knew him, honestly. There's a huge lift in the mindset of planting seeds versus the pressure of convincing, the pressure of the outcome. The tulips I planted last year came up this Spring, in their own time. When I planted them, they were brown, peeling bulbs. Nothing green, no signs of the flowers that would emerge unannounced this Spring. I didn’t remember to water them. In fact, I didn’t remember them at all.

The seeds of all the vegetables I planted a few weeks ago were teeny, tiny little things. They weren’t green. In fact, they were all mostly colorless shades of white or cream. There were no signs of roots to be found among them in their paper envelopes as I dumped them into my hands. But, I planted them with faith and God is doing the rest. It reminds me of my Papa's response when I would ask him how in the world he would continue to bring in 5 gallon bucket after 5 gallon bucket of tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, and corn all summer long. His response was predictable because it was the same every single time. He would always say, "I just planted the seeds, God did the rest." I feel that’s what I’m called to do as well. And, I'm really thankful for this realization.

I believe there is a purpose and there are gifts that are part of God's plan in my failings as well. Even more, His plan is beautiful, powerful, and believable because He said so. He can mend a broken heart. He can turn a lifeless little seed into a green, rooted, force that has been forgotten under inches of dirt. So, I choose to keep planting seeds. I choose to plant them in my children's hearts, in the dirt, and in my own heart using my hands and bowed head. I'm leaving it up to God to do the watering and sunshining, the storming, and the rooting, knowing I cannot control anything other than the planting.