During the course of my fifty-six years, I have planted a great deal of seed.  As springtime draws closer and as I peer out my window, day-by-day, the time of planting draws nearer.  Even though my husband has fenced off my what he likes to call my “too-big” garden, still I see with clarity my new (what I like to call) “too-small” garden.

Nonetheless, whether large or small, a garden is still a garden, &

• Without ground preparation, &
• Without rows laid off for planting, &
• Without seed placed ever-so-carefully within those precious rows, &
• Without the goodness of God’s spring rains, &
• Without a small dose of fertilizer, &
• Without a hoe fitted to the palm of my hand to chop away unwanted weeds—The Garden Will Not Grow & The Harvest Will Not Come.

Without a Doubt, the work of Almighty God is necessary for my dormant garden to become a summertime harvest.

• In similar fashion—

Without a Doubt, the work of God’s children—living within His purpose—serious about their role in God’s plan requires intentionalism for the dormant souls of those we love to become a child of God—a harvest time of souls.

Gardening is something we must learn, something that can be taught, and my parents were such good teachers.  Each springtime, my dad was faithful to prepare the soil for planting.  When we moved from our Indiana farm to Kentucky, oftentimes my dad would prepare the soil with the aid of one of my grandpa’s red-skinned mules.  As a child, Without A Doubt, that fascinated me.

Whether I was watching my grandpa or my dad, seeing them walk behind the garden plow clipped to the mule’s harness that rested upon the mule’s back, Without A Doubt, the sight intrigued.

• My dad and my grandpa used the same mule.
• My dad and my grandpa called the mule by name.
• My dad and my grandpa hooked on the same garden plow.
• My dad and my grandpa used the same harness and reins.
• My dad and my grandpa draped those reins across their shoulders, wearing them similarly.
• My dad and my grandpa taught me a heritage of gardening.

My dad and my grandpa & my mom and my grandma & my mom’s dad & my mom’s mom were all believers, God’s children, and daily taught me a heritage of faith.

Although I so appreciate the heritage of gardening (one that I passed on to my daughter), it is the heritage of faith they taught me (one that I passed on to my daughter) that I am most appreciative.

When planting a garden, I often use two pegs connected by a string to help me lay-off my rows straight.  Amazingly (and to my husband’s constant teasing), my garden rows still become crooked, causing my garden to become a topic for the dinner table.  However, as I have come to notice, a slightly curved garden row allows for more precious seeds to be planted, producing more garden vegetables to grow and to be enjoyed.  So, I am not ashamed, for my slightly-curved rows give me opportunities to plant more seeds. Quite the same can be spoken of our daily witness.

• Should we (the children of God) also not be ashamed of the Gospel message!
• Should we (the redeemed) also not be ashamed of our personal testimony!
• Should we (the Christians living today) also not be ashamed of the power of God to save those who remain lost and headed toward death and separation from God!

Are we—Living By Faith?

Are we—On-Mission for God?

Are we—Scattering God’s Gospel Message As We Go?

Are we—Watering God’s Seed As We Live?

Are we—Sharing Our Testimony & Proclaiming How God Changed Our Lives?

Are we?