A Planters Life

I never much liked to garden.

I don't like dirt.  

I don't like dirty hands.

I don't like dirty nails.

I don't have the patience it takes to wait.  

Not liking to do it and having to do it don't sit well with me.  

...Stiff-necked much?  Stubborn and hard headed much?

Maybe just a bit.  Can you relate?

Yet, I am a seed planter.  I am a sower.  I am compelled-driven-to do this thing.  It is my faith in action.  It is my purpose put into words.  It is the overflow of grace poured upon me that spills over and out onto others.

And yet my vessel never empties...

It requires hands to get dirty.  It gets under every fingernail.  It even finds its way into places I never knew could contain such messiness.  It requires patience to wait.  Not liking it has nothing to do with having to do it.

This is not to be confused with being the Gardener.  In this instance, my job will not be to cultivate.  It is merely to plant.

I will not be the One to send the rain.

I will not be the One to make the sun send forth its powerful rays.

What I plant will carry along with it everything it needs to regenerate.  I simply must be obedient in offering it freely and placing it in the dirt.

I may get to enjoy the fruit of the harvest or it may be enjoyed by another.  Either way, the planting must be done.

Or there will be no harvest at all.