I didn’t think they’d make it.

I had recently moved from North Carolina to New Jersey, forgetting the difference in the experience of spring. How summer’s heat comes quickly in the Carolinas and how the bitter chill lingers a little longer in the northeastern corner of New Jersey where I live, nestled along the Hudson River with views of New York City.

The day I planted my zinnia seeds (the same seeds I harvested, preserved, and sorted from the flowers I watered, grew, and tended to . . . all on my own) was the sunniest it’d been since winter. For a moment, I felt that I should save some seeds. You know the old adage: Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

But the weather was warm and the sun was bright and, after a few days of this summer-like weather, it felt like we’d finally turned the corner, leaving winter behind. So, my sons and I scattered all the seeds, ignoring the thought that maybe I should save some just in case. We watered them and eagerly watched them until, wouldn’t you know, a frigid frost came just a few days later.

Rookie mistake, I know. But the lesson got me thinking about the seeds we sow in the lives of those we know, and how the seeds either fall in good places or not-so-good places. Jesus said it Himself:

“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. Whoever has ears, let them hear.”
Matthew 13:3-9 NIV

Truth is . . . I’m no farmer. I’m just a woman who loves to watch beautiful things grow. I’m a woman who wants to believe that seeds, when buried, can endure and survive long seasons of darkness. I’m a woman tending to her plants as a prophetic act of belief in what can be true of people, too. That, of the seeds we sow in the world and in the lives of those we know, those planted in fertile soil can and will take root and flourish abundantly beyond anything we can fathom.

When the bitter wind blew and the ground froze cold, just days after I’d scattered my zinnia seeds in the ground, I didn’t think they’d make it. In fact, I literally verbalized my disbelief out loud, rehearsing sentiments like, “They’re not going to make it,” and, “I can’t believe I just wasted all my hard-earned seeds.”

But then, God touched my heart and, stronger than my own utterances and interior thoughts, I began to sense the gospel truth echo and take anchor. Instead of repeating declarations of doubt, I prayed, pleading, “God, please . . . just one. Let even just one seed survive and thrive.”

Weeks later, wouldn’t you know, my sons and I saw not one but seven zinnias sprouting from the soil. Considering the frost (some areas were even hit with snow), it was a miracle. And also? The metaphor isn’t lost on me.

The intelligence and the intention of God is that He uses our professions, passions, and pursuits to call us towards eternal purpose. Here and now, while I’m in my plant lady era, Jesus is speaking to me, calling to me, inviting me to take on His mission and embody His ways.

Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men, Jesus said to Peter and Andrew.

Come, scatter seeds of gospel truth, I sense the Savior saying to me.

Come, tend to the soil of hearts, Jesus invites us all. Come, pray for souls to be saved even when all seems bitter, broken, barren, and beyond repair.

Are you in your plant lady era, too? Let the Lord lead you to sow seeds of eternal hope. Are you a teacher? May Jesus use you to unravel the mysteries of God. Are you a homemaker? Allow your hospitality to point to the relentless welcome of God.

We cannot control the conditions of the soil of hearts, or the circumstances that surround us, or the chaos of the world. We cannot control the choices of the ones we love and serve; we cannot make them come or sprout or follow or understand or believe. We can only be faithful to steward the seeds of truth as held in our hearts and as sown from our hands. Whatever your season, whatever “era” you’re in, know that Jesus is calling to and through you.

May you have ears to hear His invitation, courage to keep casting seeds (or nets or whatever “thing” is yours to be or do), and faith to follow the only One in whom we’ve been created and called to bear much fruit.

Friends — I’d love to hear how these words touched your heart — and I’d especially love to hear if you’re tending to any seedlings. Comment below and let me know what you’re growing in your garden!

Listen to Rachel’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast via your favorite app.

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