Redeeming Time, Part 3

Focus On Key Relationships

Have you ever tallied the people you regularly rub shoulders with? My partial list includes: my wife, my kids, my grandkids, my neighbors, my students, members of my church, extended family,  business associates, athletic friends, men from a morning Bible study. But that isn’t all. Modern technology allows me to have regular contact with former students & classmates, missionaries in the Ukraine, Turkey and Israel, friends who formerly lived in Sioux Falls, couples I taught at a summer camp, and on and on.

William Powers “likens our digital age to a gigantic room” with more than 1 billion people who are instantly available to each other. Powers explains: “At any moment someone may come up and tap us on the shoulder – a text, a hit, a comment, a tweet, a post, a message. . . We enjoy the room immensely. But eventually we grow tired of the constant noise. . . . So we decide to take a vacation. But no one else seems interested in leaving. In fact, they all seem put off that you might not want to stay.” How true! We grumble and complain when someone doesn’t respond to our text within 10-15 minutes: “Where are you?!”

The result is that many of us feel like we are drowning in a crowded sea of relationships. This isn’t the way it used to be: “A century ago, social relationships were largely confined to the distance of an easy walk. Most were conducted in person, within small communities: family, neighbors, townspeople. Yes, the horse and carriage made longer trips possible, but even a trip of thirty miles could take all day. And if someone moved from the community, relationships were likely to end.”

Now obviously, people are very important—the second greatest commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself. But that doesn’t mean that I am obligated to develop a relationship with every person who drifts through my life. In descending order, Jesus spent the most time with his closest friends (Peter, James and John), next the Twelve, then a committed group of 72 disciples, then the larger body of disciples, and finally, the masses.

Many of us feel harried because we are trying to keep up with too many relationships. Thus, relationships—which are designed to be renewing—suck the life out on us. When I flit from one shallow relationship to another, who knows when I am tempted? when I am hurting? when I need encouragement?

 

When I spread myself too broadly, I don’t have time for the most important relationships. Who begs me to spend 15 minutes reading with my kids at bedtime? Who exhorts me to spend quiet time with God? Who twists my arm to date my wife? In Deuteronomy, Moses explained that a newly married husband was freed from work and military duties for one year so he could "bring happiness" to his bride. Wow! A 52 week honeymoon!

God wants us to give priority to our most significant relationships. We can’t do this unless we say “No” to many, many other relationships.

Redeeming Time, Part 2

"On a Mission to Everywhere"

Busy. Busy. Busy. Most of us are caught up in a frenzy of activity that leaves us exhausted and edgy. What is the source of our frenzy? We hear sermons or read books or listen to testimonies which convict us that we aren’t praying enough or giving enough or evangelizing enough or volunteering enough.  As a result, we become disappointed with ourselves while our opportunities begin to feel more like obligations.

 

But in spite of the crush of human need, Jesus never appeared to be in a hurry. Why not? A day from early in his ministry (Mark 1) is revealing. Jesus spent the day teaching and healing in Capernaum -- a day which didn’t end until well after sunset. Very early the next morning, Jesus retreated to a solitary place, where he prayed. When his irritated disciples finally found him, they exclaimed: “Everyone is looking for you!” What an opportunity—doors flung wide open for ministry. Why not rent a public building and have nightly meetings for the next 30 days? Imagine what Jesus could do in a month—there wouldn’t be a broken bone or a broken marriage in the entire city.

But astoundingly (to the Twelve) Jesus declined the invitation: “Let us go somewhere else so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.” Jesus knew his purpose. He knew what God had called him to do. That made it possible to decline such a tempting offer.

Mark Buchanan in Your God Is Too Safe, has observed that “at the heart of Jesus’ ministry was a holy must. He must go through Samaria. He must go to Jerusalem. He must suffer. Everything he did or refused to do centered around that.” This must brought “wonderful clarity” to Jesus’ choices.

Many of us have no God-inflamed purpose which drives and directs our choices: “There is activity. There is opinion. There is busyness. But there is nothing ... to convert selfish ambition into holy purpose.” We are like Jerry Sittser who lamented his inability to say “no”: “I am like a man on a mission to everywhere.”

Jesus didn’t heal every sick person or preach in every synagogue or accept every invitation. But he did accomplish every task the Father assigned to him. Many of us let fear or friends, pride or pastors, rather than God, fix our agendas. We need to respond to significant requests of our time by praying: "Lord, is this how you want me to use my time and gifts?"

Redeeming Time, Part 1

Does this sound familiar?

 

Goodbye, sir, excuse me, I haven’t time.
I’ll come back, I can’t wait, I haven’t time.
I must end this letter—I haven’t time.
I can’t accept, having no time.
I can’t think, I can’t read, I’m swamped, I haven’t time.
I’d like to pray, but I haven’t time...

You understand, Lord, we simply haven’t the time....
Lord, you must have made a mistake in your calculations.
There is a big mistake somewhere.
the hours are too short,
The days are too short,
Our lives are too short....              
                              Michael Quoist

Hurrying has become such a way of life that we feel harried even when there is nothing truly urgent on our schedule.” We feel compelled to complete even trivial tasks. This past weekend I was feeling anxious and when I took the time to uncover the source of my anguish, I discovered that I was worried about getting my new tulip bulbs in the ground before winter. Really?! Would it be a tragedy if I didn’t get them planted?

The speed of life has even assaulted children’s bedtime reading. The One-Minute Bedtime Story was designed “to help parents deal with time-consuming tots.” The classic fairy tales “were condensed into sixty-second sound bites.” How do children feel about it? Carl Honore‘s three-year-old son wants long stories that are read at a meandering pace. When Honore tries to “steer him towards the shortest books and read them quickly, his son complains: ‘You’re going too fast.’” Honore confesses: “Part of me feels horribly selfish when I accelerate the bedtime ritual, but another part simply cannot resist the itch to hurry on to the next thing on my agenda. Taking a long, languid stroll through the world of Dr. Seuss is not an option.”

What has happened? Why is everyone out of breath? How have we become such time paupers when so many modern inventions have made tasks easier and quicker? Kevin DeYoung reported that in 1967, “experts claimed that by 1985 the average workweek would be just 22 hours. Instead, Americans today lead the industrialized world in annual work hours.” Those inventions did save time--but we simply transferred and added time to other tasks.

Our ancestors, who had to haul their daily water and produce their own food and sew their own clothing, seemed to have time for what is truly important. But we don’t. 

If we stop someone on the street and ask, “Do you have a free hour or two to converse about the best things in life, about wisdom and virtue, about truth and goodness?” we should expect to hear a ready “yes” more than any of our ancestors could. Yet, of course, the situation is exactly the opposite. It is much less likely today than at any time in the past that anyone will have a free hour for the most important things in life.                      Peter Kreeft

God created ample time for each of us to accomplish all that he calls us to do. But how can we do this? Over the next several blogs I will explore the issues related to our pace of life and how we can organize our lives so that we have time for the truly important.

The Seasons of Harvest

Late summer is watermelon time in Texas. The young Allen Lacy's passion for watermelon caused him to ask his granddaddy why they couldn't eat it all year round. This elderly man's wise reply was: 

We have watermelons because the Good Lord saw fit to give us watermelons. It was one of the better things He did, and special things need special times and seasons. God gave Texas a little more heat than most places just so that our watermelons would be the best on earth. It's a blessing, but the last thing in the world we need here in Texas is a few more months of heat, just for the sake of more watermelon.

Unfortunately, most grocers are not bound by "times and seasons"—I can buy peaches any month of the year. But how does a January peach taste? It was picked green in South America, trucked to a port, shipped to a U.S. port, trucked to a warehouse and, finally, delivered to my grocery store. The result? What do you think?! It is either stone hard or mushy soft. After many, many  disappointments, this fool is learning to resist the false hope of non-seasonal fruit. I now spend my money on fall apples, winter citrus, spring asparagus, summer peaches.

The challenge in life, too, is to enjoy seasonal fruit. Solomon claimed: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Eccl.3:1) Are you a parent of young children? Then enjoy the sweet taste of morning snuggling and bedtime reading, of candid conversations and corkscrewed reasoning, of trusting spirits and untrustworthy emotions. That delicate fruit will soon be gone. Don't crave a child who uses the toilet and sleeps through the night and carries on a rational discussion (which won't happen until they are 40!).

South Dakotans joke that we have two seasons—winter and road repair! Both provide abundant ammunition for complainers. A number of years ago Cathy and I recognized that we were habitually crabbing about our long, bleak winters. "Why does it have to be so cold?" "I don't think spring will ever come." "These icy roads are horrible!" "I'm so tired of being cold; I can't wait to be hot." "Why would anyone choose to live here?!"

Stabbed by prisoner Paul's claim that he could be content in any and every situation, we sought to enjoy the season of winter. We bought cross-country skis. We put a wood-burning fireplace in our new home. We fellowship with others more frequently. We bundle up most winter days—if the snowdrifts aren't too high or the wind-chill too low—and hike outdoors. We try to embrace the slower pace of winter. While the garden and other warm-weather activities lie dormant, we have more time to read, reflect, converse, and write.

Are you entering your senior years?  Do you find yourself in poverty? Have you recently become empty-nesters?  When our boys were young it was a challenge to get them to taste new food. "Com'n. Try a little. You'll like it." Maybe our heavenly Father is coaxing his kids in the same way. "Com'n. This season's fruit is superb. Won't you try a bite?"

The Expectations of the Harvest

One seed catalog described several varieties of the same vegetable: "adds zest to salads," "most astonishing," "outstanding tenderness," "bursting with flavor and nutrition," "distinctive flavor." Which exotic vegetable were they describing? The green bean! All these tinseled descriptions make it difficult to know what a mature garden looks or tastes like.

Many of us are no less ignorant of the flavor of a mature relationship. Mildred Walker's novel, “Winter Wheat”, tells the story of Ellen Webb—the only child of her American father and her Russian mother. While attending college, Ellen fell in love with Gil, a young man who came to her farm home for a summer visit. But after a shortened stay, he bolted home. When mom tried to comfort Ellen, Ellen exploded, blaming her parents’ marriage for her Gil’s departure:

"I'm not like you, Mom, so I'd do anything to get a man to marry me!” Mom looked at me so blankly it made me all the angrier.

“Don't look as though you didn't know what I was talking about. I know how you tricked Dad. I overheard you the night after Gil left. I know he married you and took you to America because you told him you were pregnant. And when he knew you weren't going to have a child it was too late. He was married to you, and he was too honorable to go away and leave you." I couldn't seem to stop. I watched my words fall like blows on Mom's face.

"And you've gone on all these years hating each other. Gil felt that hate. He could tell just being here. That's one of the things that drove him away from here, from me." I almost choked on my own words. I guess I was crying. Mom was still so long I looked up at her. All the color had gone out of her face, except in her eyes. She shook her head. "You don't know anything, Yelena. In our church if baby is not christened we say she go blind in next world. I think you go blind in this world—blind dumb! She stopped and then went on slowly. "No, Yelena, I never hate Ben `an Ben don't hate me. I love him here so all these years!" Mom touched her breast and her face broke into life. He eyes were softer, "Me hate Ben"! She laughed.

Mom explained that she had deceived her father. But it was only because she was seventeen, in love, and had already lost all of her family during World War I. Though Ben was upset by her deception, his love wouldn't allow him to hold a grudge. Mom looked at Ellen and sighed: “Yolochka, you don't know how love is yet."

What does a healthy marriage look like? a healthy friendship? Many of us hold a ripe friendship in our hands but don't recognize it because it has a few blemishes. As Jesus agonized over his date with the cross, he confessed to his disciples, Peter, James and John: "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." As he strained to obey the Father's will, he implored his friends to keep watch and pray. But his friends promptly fell asleep--not once, not twice, but three times! How many of us would hang onto friends who snored through the crisis of our lives? Though certainly disappointed, Jesus knew his friends' hearts: "The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." All mature relationships have frequent failings.

Measuring the Harvest, Part 2

Some harvest measurements can deceive us. When a church's pews are full, the church should not assume that it is mature. When a psychologist claims that 90% of a child's personality is established by the age of 4, a parent must not infer that his school-aged child doesn’t need him. When most of my students rate me favorably, I must not conclude that my teaching has no need for improvement. When a motivational speaker promises that a habit is formed by 21 days of consecutive action, we should not believe that only three weeks of sowing will reap a lifetime of discipline.

Early students of human behavior coined the phrase the "social sciences." They believed (and many still believe) there are precise laws of human behavior, like the laws of physical science, that can be monitored and measured. As Neil Postman has written, these "psychologists, sociologists, and economists will have numbers to tell them the truth or they will have nothing." But human behavior is too unpredictable to know with certainty what people will do in any given situation.

Measuring the harvest is also tricky because we observe people who sow evil, but reap good -- demagogic politicians who are respected and re-elected; depraved filmmakers who win fame and fortune; cheating students who receive accolades and awards. Like the Jews of Malachi's day we may become discouraged: "It is futile to serve God. What did we gain by carrying out his requirements? . . . Certainly the evildoers prosper, and even those who challenge God escape." (3:14f)

When evil prospers, a moral fog blankets the earth. But occasionally the fog lifts -- a politician is caught lying; a professional athlete is suspended for using performance enhancing drugs; a religious leader is caught stealing church funds. But one day the veil will completely and permanently lift when we "will again see the distinction between those who serve God and those who do not. Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and that day that is coming will set them on fire." (3:18 - 4:1). All the wicked -- even the most celebrated fools -- will simply be stubble, the refuse from God's harvest. They won't survive his fiery judgment.

  

Harvest Numbers

The harvest in my garden can be easily quantified—a bushel of squash, two pints of strawberries, one quart of honey. But can all harvests be numerically measured? A while back my bank conducted a telephone survey consisting of fifteen multiple-choice questions. When the caller hung up, though, I was left with an uneasy feeling—several questions had no fitting answer and no questions were open-ended. Why wasn't I given the latitude to talk about other issues? Probably because my words couldn't be reduced to a graph line.

Focusing on numerical measurements can be misleading. One day while I was idly taking notes in a seminary class, one of my classmates asked the professor: "Will we have to know this for the test?" What a great question! A “No" would give my wandering thoughts more freedom. But my normally placid professor exploded: "What are you guys doing here?! Do you think anyone will care what grade you made in this class?! Do you think a nominating committee will ask for your transcript?! What they want to know is whether these truths are transforming your life and ministry." What a novel thought—study to learn something! Though I had mastered the educational assessment game, how much was I truly learning? That day sparked a new attitude toward learning—I would focus less on grade point average and more on developing the knowledge and skills to serve God for a lifetime.

Similarly, a few years ago an enthused publisher expressed interest in reprinting my book, Remodeling the Family. As I was completing several months of revisions, and dreaming about how many copies would be printed, the editor called, informing me that ZERO copies would be printed—the company had changed its mind. I was dejected. Why would God lure me down this dead end road? As I gazed at my "wasted" investment, I spied a cluster of fruit hidden behind the leaves of my disappointment. This project was my first extensive writing in several years, reawakening my calling to communicate God's truth through writing—which eventually led to this blog, Captive Thinking. Furthermore, the re-writing reminded me of major themes in my life, rekindling a desire to spread those truths. I was reminded (again!) that the harvest in my life can't be measured in bushels or ounces, or even the number of books sold but in how God was working in me: "The fruit of righteousness will be peace and quietness and confidence forever. Though hail flattens the forest, how blest you will be." (Is.32). Though God flattened my hopes, I could still be at peace, confident that He still wanted to bless and use me.

A Disappointing Harvest

God’s prophet, Haggai, asked his fellow-Jews to reflect on their puny harvest:  

You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it. (1:5f)

Why were these frustrated people plagued by the proverbial “hole in the pocket?” God explained: "What you brought home, I blew away. Why? Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house." (1:9f). As the Jews returned from captivity in Babylon (6^th century B.C.) and began the rugged task of rebuilding their shattered nation, they became consumed with their own homes. They had gone beyond providing shelter—they now lived in “paneled houses” while God's house lay unfinished and unusable. As a result of this lengthy neglect of their spiritual duties, God sent a bitter harvest as a warning.

These procrastinators, though, were unmoved: "the time has not yet come." How often have we with puckered lips told God, "The time has not yet come"? We taste the bitter fruit of a depressed child but say, "I know he needs more of my time, Lord, but I've got this new job." Or we taste the unripe fruit of a chilled heart toward God and say, "Lord, I know I have been ignoring you, but I’ll join a small group Bible study when the kids return to school.” Or we taste the pungent fruit of marital strife but promise to seek help when our house remodeling is complete.

As I have reflected on my recent gardening, I have "repented" of my deficient soil—I need to fortify my soil through better composting. It is easy to be committed to the concept of composting. It is not easy to be committed to the chore of composting—hauling manure, turning the pile, adding grass and leaves, watering. There are no quick fixes for my soil—or my soul. Repentance brings my life out of winter. But I won’t reap a harvest unless I commit to the timeless, daily cycles of the farmer. When Israel strayed, God's message was "break up . . . sow . . . reap." No one reaps a bountiful life by putting off today's work.

Measuring the Harvest

I coached my youngest son's traveling soccer team for seven years. Though the team had few elite athletes, their hard work had enabled them to compete with many elite teams. As we approached our very last tournament, I envisioned a storybook ending. The two best teams were in the other bracket and we were the best in our bracket. I dreamed about us playing in, and winning, the championship game. What a harvest after all the years of disciplined work!

The first team we played had never beaten us. In the closing minute of the game, the out-of-shape referee (who was forty yards out of position) whistled us for a foul, awarding them a penalty kick—which they made. The referee clearly made the wrong call, enabling that team to tie us 1-1. I was very upset, yelling repeatedly at the referee: "That's the worst call I have ever seen!

In our second game, we opened strong, leading 2-0 at half. But questionable officiating and sloppy play led to a 3-2 loss. On one occasion, I angrily slammed my hat to the ground and stomped on it to protest a call. (A grown man stomping on his own hat?!) My fantasy of a championship had evaporated. During our final game we were clobbering the next best team in our division 4-0 at half. It was probably the best soccer the boys had ever played. I thought: "Well, at least we'll go out on a high note." But the second half was a complete disaster. We were badly outplayed and only a phenomenal stop by our goalie preserved a 4-4 tie. The game ended with a fistfight—a first for my team. As I went home that evening I was mostly disappointed in myself. Had my temper fueled their fists? The fruit in my life was sour that day.

Once again my garden's harvest is instructive. Though I have been gardening for several decades, I still mess up. My inattention might cause me to lose some seedlings during a hot spell. Or I might overlook an insect invasion. Does this mean I should list my garden tools on e-bay?  No. I must look at my garden—and my life!—more panoramically. Before I worked myself into to funk over my coaching failure, I reflected on the past seven years. I had grown in my ability to love and lead young men, to control my volatile emotions, to trust God to give the boys the experiences they needed.

As a Christian I want a measure of my walk with God—the harvest provides that measure. My garden is to be increasingly filled with the Spirit-grown fruit of love, joy, peace, and patience. When Paul wrote to the Thessalonians he commended them: "Now about brotherly love we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other." But he urged them "to do so more and more." God looks for progress, not perfection.

Harvest Math, 2

The multiplying principle of the harvest (see previous post) applies in unwanted ways also. When Israel was running from God, Hosea warned: "Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind." (Hos.8:7). Hosea warned that if they planted the seeds of wind, they would reap a tornado of trouble.

Many don't recognize their empty sowing until the whirlwind knocks them to the ground. As Solomon regularly traveled by a lazy neighbor's field, he observed that:

 the ground was covered with weeds,

 and the stone wall was in ruins.
I applied my heart to what I observed
  and learned a lesson from what I saw;
A little sleep, a little slumber,
  a little folding of the hands to rest
and poverty will come on you like a bandit
  and scarcity like an armed man. (Prov.24:32f)

How did this lazy farmer get mugged by poverty? It happened so gradually—“a little...a little...a little"—that he never saw the bandit coming. When one stone fell from his stone wall, he thought, "I'll get to that tomorrow." When the second one fell out, he thought, "I'll put that one back when I repair the first one." When the third one fell out, he stopped making promises to himself. His large problem (poverty) was built by small choices (not replacing fallen stones.)

Early in my Christian life I feared that I might be seized by temptation and take a major tumble. But Solomon reminds us that disasters are created inch by inch by inch—we creep rather than leap into major sin. I might commit adultery after I harbor bitterness toward my wife, after I regularly flirt with a co-worker, after I bare my intimate thoughts to that other woman, after I choose to have a “business lunch” with her. The wall falls down a stone at a time. If I don't repair the small breakdowns, I may experience a complete collapse.

 
But if Solomon's farmer repents of his slothful ways, can his wall be rebuilt? Maybe not. Several years ago Frank (not his real name) came to live with us after his wife booted him out of their home. One evening at dinner, I asked Frank to explain to my sons why he was living in our home. As he talked, the pain and loneliness overcame him. Bowing his head and weeping, he cried: "My sin! My sin! I may never enjoy a family meal like this because I haven't been walking with God." Frank was right. His wife divorced him and the unity of his family was forever shattered. Though Frank's repentance helped him become a stable and godly influence for his kids, his wall could never be entirely rebuilt. We can control our choices, but not our consequences.

The Delayed Harvest

One of the surest principles of the harvest is its delay. I can't pick beans the day after I sow bean seeds. My newly planted asparagus roots won't produce a significant crop for two or three years. Our sapling oak trees will provide a canopy of shade for our great-grandchildren’s play!

It is the slow, steady growth of trees that most resembles God's work—though the wicked spring up like grass, the righteous will flourish like a palm tree and will become oaks of righteousness. (Ps.92) One of the delightful oaks that has been growing in my life is the relationships that I enjoy with my three adult sons and their families. We share holidays and meals, gardening and golf, work and worship. What fed this delightful growth? It was painstakingly nurtured ring by ring and inch-by-inch.

• Ring #1: Playing most of my golf with my young sons rather than my fellow golf addicts. (By the second hole they were hot, frustrated, and ready to dash to the swimming pool.)
• Ring #2: Working with my boys in a small lawn care business. (I could have earned more money and suffered less grief—“Dad, do we have to mow today? It's too hot!"—if I had worked on my own.)
• Ring #3: Establishing my office at home. (I could have written several more books if I had located my office away from their frequent interruptions.)
• Ring #4:  Coaching my sons' athletic teams. (Doesn't everyone love a task that involves griping parents, incompetent  referees, and rowdy children?!) 
• Ring #5: Vacationing as a family. (I would have preferred more romantic get-aways with my wife!)

Parenting makes remarkable demands but has few instant rewards. My boys didn't slap me on the back and say, "Wow! You're sure a great dad to give up your Saturday golf game to play golf with us." None of my golfing friends, who watched my handicap balloon to an eight from a two, said, "I think it's great to see a father put his kids first." So why did I persevere? Because I was confident that planting those choice seeds would one day produce a joyful harvest.

Harvest Math

I sow one corn seed—I reap hundreds of corn seeds. I sow a packet of tiny lettuce seeds—I reap enough lettuce to feed my Sioux Falls relatives (and the Sioux Falls relatives of Peter Rabbit!) Similarly, a Flemish scientist planted a sapling willow tree in 200 pounds of soil. For the next five years he added only water to the soil. At the end of the experiment he weighed the tree (169 pounds) and the soil (199 pounds, 14 oz.). 2 ounces of soil had produced 169 pounds of tree!  

Jesus took his disciples’ meager plantings and produced an astonishing crop, feeding 5000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish. When everyone had eaten their fill, the disciples gathered 12 baskets of leftovers! (One basket for each of his “we-don’t-have-enough-to-feed-them” disciples?) 

I have seen God repeatedly produce the same geometric explosion in my students. If God wasn’t involved in my classes, my highest praise might be: "Nice class." Or, "A pleasant way to spend Saturday mornings." But one woman wrote:

 

My marriage has been hanging by a thread. This course came at such a crucial time. It gave me the strength to hang on to this marriage by looking to His word. I have found verses that spoke to me, giving me direction when I felt lost.  

She attended a marriage and family class? No. It was Introduction to the Bible! When God wants to transform a life he isn't limited by the syllabus! Another student who was "quite nervous" about taking a theology class because of his lack of Biblical knowledge, wrote:  

I had never attempted to read and truly understand the Bible. Yet, after diving heart first into it, I found that what I had feared was not to be found. Not only did I comprehend the readings, but more importantly, I was able to apply the concepts in my life. This is so amazing to me! Something that was written thousands of years before my time remains so true to life today. I feel as if there is a whole new world to discover.

 

And many of these students quickly become seed-planters themselves: "I must find a church and get my children involved in Sunday School. I would even like to be a Sunday School teacher! (Boy, I never thought I'd say that!) I have read some Bible verses to my family and I find that it is a wonderful feeling to spread God's word." 

When the apostle Paul found people taking sides between him and Apollos, he bristled: What after all is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe . . . I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. (I Cor.3:5-7) The marvel of my students’ growth has little to do with the small seeds that I plant. It is humbling, and often exhilarating, to watch God multiply my 2 ounces of effort into 169 pounds of heavenly fruit. I love God's math!  

What seeds is God asking you to plant? Beginning a morning Bible study with co-workers? Reaching out to an aging, bitter neighbor? Joining a mission trip to an Indian reservation? Take a risk! Watch the all-powerful Mathema-tician work His wonders!

 

Harvesting the Garden, Part 2

The Delayed Harvest

One of the surest principles of the harvest is its delay. I can't pick beans the day after I sow bean seeds. Newly planted asparagus roots won't produce a significant crop for two or three years. Our sapling oak trees will provide a canopy of shade for our great-grandchildren’s play!

It is the slow, steady growth of trees that most resembles God's work—though the wicked spring up like grass, the righteous will flourish like a palm tree and will become oaks of righteousness. (Ps.92) One of the delightful oaks that has been growing in my life is the relationship that I enjoy with my three adult sons and their families. We share holidays and meals, gardening and golf, work and worship. What fed this splendid growth? The growth of it was painstakingly nurtured ring by ring and inch-by-inch.

• Ring #1: Playing most of my golf with my young sons rather than my friends. (By the second hole they were hot, frustrated, and ready to dash to the swimming pool.)
• Ring #2: Working with my boys in a small lawn care business. (I could have earned more money and suffered less grief—“Dad, do we have to mow today? It's too hot!"—if I had worked on my own.)
• Ring #3: Establishing my office at home. (I could have written several more books if I had located my office away from their frequent interruptions.)
• Ring #4:  Coaching my sons' athletic teams. (Doesn't everyone love a task that involves griping parents, incompetent  referees, and rowdy children?!)
• Ring #5: Vacationing as a family. (I would have preferred more romantic get-aways with my wife!)

Parenting makes remarkable demands but has few instant rewards. My boys didn't slap me on the back and say, "Wow! You're sure a great dad to give up your Saturday golf game to play golf with us." None of my golfing friends, who watched my handicap balloon to an eight from a two, said, "I think it's great to see a father put his kids first." So why did I persevere? Because I was confident that planting those choice seeds would one day produce a delightful harvest.

Harvesting the Garden

My dad was a zealous gardener—and his kids and grandkids were his co-gardeners. His half-acre garden was gloriously, phenomenally productive. From mid-summer to late fall, we harvested bags brimming with sweet peas, string beans and broccoli, gunnysacks stuffed with sweet corn, squash and potatoes, thirty-pound fruit boxes spilling over with tomatoes, beets and carrots; a pickup jammed with pumpkins, and on and on. Though dad could keep pace with most garden work, the harvest overwhelmed him. Every year—to the dismay of my depression-raised dad—a sizeable amount of produce went unharvested. One day as we were leaving the farm with a carload of vegetables, dad whined: "When are you going to get back and pick the rest of those beans? They're getting old.” A bit peeved, I teased: "What was that you said? `Thanks for helping?'" Dad heartily agreed with Jesus: The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few!

Even Mom would get frustrated with the abundance—she had the task of cleaning and storing them. Though I had never heard my mom cuss, one day after Dad unloaded another pile of produce, she protested, "Al, what am I going to do with all these damn vegetables?!" (Dad tried to solve the problem of abundance by buying two refrigerators for his garage and an extra refrigerator for each of his kids! But the problem wasn't solved until he discovered that our local soup kitchen would gladly take his excess produce.)

The harvest is one of the most tangible miracles in our world. Laura Simon explains:

You drop a seed in the dirt, water it, and wait for it to sprout. That's kind of magical, don't you think? I mean, here's a seed, a tiny fleck of matter, smaller, in some cases than the period that will end this sentence. But inside its insignificant little carcass are the makings of a five-foot-tall delphinium, say, with flowers so twinkling blue they'll make you suck in your breath.

 The harvest is breathtaking. Dad’s annual supply of seeds barely filled a shoebox. But the harvest couldn't be contained in the back end of a pickup—would a semi-trailer have been enough?!

The average ratio of harvested seeds to planted seeds in Biblical Palestine was about 8-1. When Jesus asserted that a fertile heart could produce a hundred, sixty, or thirty times what was sown, he envisioned a lavish productivity that would stun even my garden-wise father. God's goal is to make your life brim with marvelous fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. But it won’t happen until you humbly invite Him into your garden and ask Him to take charge.

Weeds, Final Thoughts

Though weed-free is a fantasy, weed-controlled is a possibility. Whether in the garden or in life, a persistent attack on weeds will ensure that I have increasingly fewer weeds to control. The Apostle Paul explained: “Just as you used to offer the parts of your body in slavery to impurity and to ever-increasing wickedness, so now offer them in slavery to righteousness leading to holiness.” (v.19) When I repeatedly submit to sin, I become enslaved "to ever-increasing wickedness." But when I submit to God, I become a slave to righteousness. Each time I refused to berate one of my son's coaches, it became easier the next time, and even easier the next. As I repeatedly knocked that weed back, its hold on me was weakened and I became increasingly bound by the good.

The chore of weeding is my chore. The cutworms won't decapitate my dandelions. The aphids won't annihilate my bindweed. The cattle won't consume my thistles. Look at a well-grazed pasture. The cattle keep the grasses trimmed to lawn height -- except for the three-foot high thistle spikes. (I don't blame the cows. I put on gloves to uproot thistles -- imagine eating one!)

I, too, must become a weed warrior, continually combatting the weeds that threaten to overtake my life. I must repeatedly praise God during an illness to fight the weed of self-pity. I must routinely play with my children to knock back the weed of selfishness. I am in a contest with weeds to see what will cover the ground. Will I sit idly back and let life-strangling weeds fill my life? Or will I struggle to establish Christ-honoring growth? I have a choice. The ground is bare -- but it won't stay bare for long.