When God is gardening in your heart

I rolled over in bed and cried into his shoulder, “I just want to have a good heart.” Why are there so many weeds?

God has been gardening in my heart.

When I think garden I think of encouraging tender tendrils, carefully cultivating the sweet little shoots poking up their hesitant heads. I think of my little green watering can, patting down dark soil, picking sprigs of Basil, even gently tugging at carrot tops, unearthing the edible roots.

It’s all very romantic.

But this weekend’s gardening wasn’t romantic at all.

It was hot, sweaty, back-breaking labor. Of course I didn’t do very much of it, but my husband is half-hunched over today because he did.

Since we live on a little suburban plot, a friend in the country suggested that together we do a family garden. We’d split the cost, the labor, and the produce. They’d supply the land. Our kids homeschool together so it was a perfect learning opportunity. We filled our kitchens with sprouting seeds, and this weekend we broke ground.

Or, rather, the ground broke us. Not sure who did more of the breaking.

Our two dear husbands labored for hours over a rototiller, tearing out stubborn grass to lay bear the rich, dark soil beneath. They hoed, shoveled, raked, loaded up a truck-load of grassy surface to haul away. Every kid had a tool in hand–little trowels and rakes, tiny plastic sand toys put to use. Little forms bent in labor, little hands shading eyes from the sun. And I’ll admit, as I stood out there in the heat, hoeing up stubborn ground, all I could think was,

“Man, this is hard.”

By quitting time the kids were dirt from head to toe. We were sweaty, smelly, exhausted. Happy, but beat. And we’d only scratched the surface.

If anything, beginning the work just showed me how much more work needs to be done.

It seemed so simple before we started. Now, a $.99 bag of carrots from Safeway seems like a heck of a deal.

But we’re committed. And, I’m glad. I know it will be worth it, not just for the fresh tomato salsa, but for the work, the camaraderie, the myriad lessons for our children on work, growth, soil, seeds. As the primary illustration used in scripture, it makes sense we might want to investigate it ourselves. But man, the work sure is hard.

Just like the work of sanctification.

I’m reading a book, Battlefield of the Mind (more on that later), and one of the things I’m seeing is how great is the work that needs to be done in transforming my mind. In making it holy. In make it new. In thinking God’s thoughts after Him.

It didn’t seem like a big deal until I started. Now that I’ve broken ground (or it has broken me), it’s clear that there is much more to be done. When we sing, “Heal my heart and make it clean, open up my eyes to the things unseen, show me how to love like You have loved me…” It sounds so romantic. Like plucking tender Basil leaves or gently patting down soil.

But in reality, that transforming work is more like a 8-horse-power tiller, blades grinding, slicing soil, two grown men working with all their strength through the heat of the day.

That’s the kind of gardening God is doing. The reason?

He’s actually changing who we are.

In our garden project, we’re not just patting some new soil into pots, we’re actually changing an old field into a place where food will grow. A place of fruit, abundance, life. This square of earth will have a new identity, a new purpose.

Just like me. Just like you.

We’re re-birthed in the twinkling of an eye, but we’re made new, transformed, sanctified by the labor-intensive work of God’s Spirit in our lives. He breaks up the fallow ground, uproots the weeds, pulls out the rocks. We sweat, are fatigued because we see all the work left to do.

But you know what? We’re committed. And we have a good promise for what is in store:

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Gal 6:9

We will reap. A harvest of righteousness.

That’s even better than fresh tomato salsa. (Barely)

Thanks for reading.