Long, long ago in a kingdom far away in rural Tennessee, we moved into a house so new, it still smelled like freshly-sawn wood. And the yard…well, the yard wasn’t yet. The house appeared to be an island floating on a bare and uneven terrain of dirt, weeds and construction debris. The builder assured us, no problem, she would send out a guy to clean up and seed the area around the house. “You are just going to have to keep sprinklers going, if the lawn is going to take root,” she admonished us. Before the grass guy appeared, we were called out of town to attend the funeral of Bill’s grandmother, driving two days through a blizzard with our almost-two-year-old daughter strapped for twelve hours in her car seat. And I was at that time “great with child” with our second baby.
When we returned, sure enough, straw covered our yard. It was my job, between unpacking boxes, to move the sprinklers every couple of hours. All day, every day, I wobbled along with my huge growing belly, my feet squishing through the mud up to my ankles. I was motivated, knowing the southern summer heat was coming (and so was this baby) and that we had a small window of time to get this grass growing and established. One week went by. “Give it time,” Bill told me. I kept the sprinklers moving like I was playing a huge game of checkers. Two weeks, and still not a blade. “It’ll come,” said my patient husband. I intensified my efforts. My worn-out running shoes were now encased in thick layers of red Tennessee clay, and they stood in the garage like mud-covered puppies waiting to be walked every two hours.
After three weeks, still nothing appeared but a few weeds standing vulnerable and bewildered like lost tourists. Bill called the grass guy to find out what we were doing wrong. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “As a matter of fact,” he chuckled. “You know what? I totally forgot to put in the seed before the hay was scattered. My mistake. I’ll be back out next week.”
I was watering MUD for three weeks?!? There was no fruit from my labors because there was no seed to start with. I didn’t see any change. That should have told me something.
Jesus spoke in words that common people could understand. He illustrated profound spiritual truths by using visuals such as water, sheep, fruit, and even types of soil. “The seed is the Word of God,” Jesus explained (Luke 8.11). It is how we grow. There are no roots and no fruit, if first the seed is not planted and nurtured. The Word is what transforms the landscape of our lives, what roots us spiritually, and in turn, bears fruit to bless the lives of others.
I cannot create transformation, but I can incorporate God’s Word in my life, reading each morning or evening, musing on what I have read, and taking a verse with me into my day. And through it, God changes me.
As your autumn begins to fill up with new urgencies, do not neglect to seed your life daily with that which bears spiritual fruit. You will never know how radically different your life can be, nor how profoundly it will impact everyone around you. God’s Word transforms you inside and out.
And as for that in the good soil,
they are those who hearing the Word,
hold it fast
in an honest and good heart,
and bring forth fruit with patience.
Luke 8.15
The grass withers, the flower fades,
but the Word of our God will stand forever.
Isaiah 40.8
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