You would think that with a father who could grow geraniums in the Sahara, I might be able to keep a house plant alive longer than the time it takes to drive home from the store. You might think this, however, you would be wrong. (I also have a mother whose sweet voice is the soundtrack of my childhood and yet I, sadly, can’t carry a tune in a bucket.). Since dropping out of our community garden project a few years back due to an overwhelming Spiegel thumbs down on kale and kohlrabi, Jim and I have attempted to cultivate a modest garden of our own. A few raised beds, brimming with peppers and tomatoes, a scattering of herbs and cucumbers. Nothing to give the Golly Green Giant a run for his money but hey, we try.
As is typical of most projects, I enjoy the prep work far more than the day-to-day maintenance which is generally required in order to keep living things alive. The raising of our children is the main except to this rule, though sometimes I definitely enjoy the idea of them much more than the reality. I live for online research and trips to the farmer’s market for more humus, whatever that is. Then the summer wears on and honestly, between baseball games and trips to the lake, I forget there is stuff growing out there. After weeks of neglect, I discover cucumbers the size of Larry Boy and tomatoes which seem to be sun-drying themselves on the vine.
So the over-reactionary, Laurel and Hardy version of Amy goes running for the hose and proceeds to drowned everything in site, again hopefully with the except of the children. It is so hard to find that natural balance between panicked downpour and neglectful drought. Slow and steady may win the race but my pace is definitely something more akin to fast and furious.
Unfortunately, this is often my approach in spiritual matters as well. I decide to memorize scripture. So in the course of an afternoon, I buy a book, download one of those beautiful Ann Voskamp memorization guides, commit to memory the first five or six verses of Colossians and set a course for spiritual enlightenment. And…a week later, the book is already dusty on my bedside table, my beautiful memorization guide is at the bottom of my workout bag and I have forgotten three of the six verses.
Not so with God. He is the steady rain that falls and refreshes without fail. He is the sunshine that warms without ever burning too bright. It may not always feel this way. It may sometimes feel as though you are dying for lack of rain. It may feel as though you have been abandoned to the elements. But He is there, waiting for you to feel your need of Him. Waiting to wash away the panic in the gentle downpour of His love. Peter tells us “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:8-9). You see, it isn’t us waiting on Him but rather Him waiting for us. We aren’t dying for lack of His care but rather it is He who waits for us to ask.
Ah, Crab Apples! 