The thought of gardening sounds so much better in my head than actually doing the work. A few years ago, I started gardening out of nostalgia for my childhood–or maybe as a distraction from other things. My wonderful, patient husband has spent (and graciously allowed me to spend) several thousand dollars over the years cultivating a large raised garden bed, complete with a chicken coop and seven fluffy chickens.
It always starts out so lush and green, full of promise. There is a master plan and hundreds of seeds planted each spring. The sprouts flourish, flowers begin to bloom, and fruit begins to form. But then June arrives, and the bugs and the heat, and with it my enthusiasm begins to fade. I put on a show by watering and picking and canning but by mid-July I’m literally burned out. Then the sweltering of August comes around and the garden is just a distant memory, a quiet reminder of yet another thing I have failed to nurture.
This is where I found myself one Saturday afternoon while trying to hit my step count. I ventured through the garden gate and my eyes wandered to the only flowers I still have blooming in the otherwise wilted flower cemetery. A beautiful butterfly caught my eye and I got so close I could see the spotted head and antennae moving, and I snapped a picture. As I’m basking in the glow of this, for a split second I think, “I did this. I created this garden and allowed for a place for a monarch butterfly to have nourishment and respite on its long journey.”
Then conviction settled in. I realized I had nothing to do with that blossom nourishing the butterfly–God did that. While I may have put the seed in the ground, God nurtured it, fed it, and provided everything it needed to draw the butterfly.
Nothing is an accident. God’s provision, mercy, and grace allowed that blossom to thrive despite my neglect. The same is true for my life. He does the growing–in spite of my weakness, and sometimes because of my heart posture towards Him. I can’t take credit for my life or the blossom even if I had a role in the planting. It is only God who makes things grow (1 Corinthians 3:7).
Just seconds after I snapped another picture, a giant carpenter bee swooped in and attacked the butterfly. Jumping in surprise, I lost sight of the butterfly. I don’t know what happened to the butterfly after that but because God has brought it this far, I trust He will carry it on His wings to find new strength for the journey (Isaiah 40:31). Just as He provides the strength for me to soar, run, or walk wherever He plants me.
Use this link to grab a t-shirt with this image on it.
0 comments