I’ve been thinking a lot lately about seeds—which is quite odd, actually, since neither of my two thumbs are anywhere close to being green. Still, I find something beautiful about the picture of planting something so small that has the capacity to turn into something else entirely with time, work, patience and care.

Take the other day, for example. I was reading John, and was struck by Jesus’ words in 4:37-38:
Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true. I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.”

How true of my own life, of what I’m doing here in Liberia. I have seen amazing things happen in the lives of these kids—and that is largely due to all the hard work that those who came before me put in. They sowed many seeds and, because of that, I was able to come along later and reap.

Here’s the thing though. Reaping, contrary to what many may think, is not easy. It’s stillwork. The crops aren’t going to harvest themselves; someone has to do it, right? It made me realize that both sowing and reaping are equally important; one is impossible without the other.

Then, this morning, we were having team worship time, and Rebecca spoke out that she felt strongly like God wanted to thank and encourage us for the jobs we have been doing here. So there I am, singing worship songs and raising my hands…and still thinking about seeds.

See, I realized something else: there’s another job, another type of work, that is just as important as the sowing and the reaping. It’s the watering. Once that seed has been planted, there must be a season of watering, of caring for the crops, preparing them for their eventual harvest, ensuring that they will be healthy in every way. And as I was mulling all this over in my mind, I heard God say to me six beautiful take-my-breath-away words: “Thank you for being my waterer.”

Yes! I thought. I’m a waterer. That’s awesome! I like that. Cool, God. And then a few minutes later: “That’s not all I want from you. You’ve watered, yes, but I will also at times ask you to sow. Or perhaps reap. Whatever your “job” is at the time, trust that I will see that you do it well. I wouldn’t have asked you into my garden if it were not so.”

Now, like I said before, I am the furthest one can possibly get from being the gardening type. And I don’t ever try to do it because I’m pretty sure I simply can’t. Still—God asked me to garden. Maybe not literally; He’s not really telling me to go plant wheat or corn or anything like that. But every week, He entrusts me with 135 of His precious little crops. And even though I’m soon leaving the field (haha—get it?!), I have a pretty strong feeling that I’ll still be involved with the gardening process, even if it’s on the other side.


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