A common theme in the Bible, being found in almost every story, is that God begins his preparatory work in a person long before the time when he calls them to a specific task. Before Moses and David would shepherd God’s people, they would both spend a long season as literal shepherds, practically isolated from all people. In time, the skills they honed and lessons they learned while shepherding livestock, would prove useful in shepherding lives.
The same type of prophetic dreams which led to Joseph losing his family and becoming a slave, would later be used by God to make him a ruler who saved his family and an entire civilization. Standing on the bow of Simon’s fishing boat, Jesus invited him to follow him and become a fisher of men. Lately I’ve been wondering if God has been preparing me and Honey for a work that sprang up right in front of us. Allow me some room to explain.
Five years ago, while living in Lake City, Florida, I wrote the following:
“Last year, having grown tired of spending money on bags of dirt, my wife and I decided to create a compost box. It consisted of a rubber maid tub with about a hundred holes drilled in it. We put some soil in it and then began tossing all of our organic waste in the box. Fast forward to this spring and one morning I noticed a little shoot of something green growing from one of those holes. Curious, I began to watch it each day as it grew bigger and bigger until one day I was able to discern its identity because of the appearance of an undeniable little yellow bloom. It was a tomato plant. Apparently we had tossed some left over Roma tomatoes into the compost box and a little seed, despite no attention from any human, and against all odds, did what God created it to do and began to grow. For a moment I thought about doing all sorts of things like watering it and adding fertilizer and pesticides, but ultimately I decided the Lord had given and if He saw fit He would take away. This little tomato plant had done just fine without my help and so I decided to stay out of the way, well, almost. I did at least turn the box where the rain water could fall on it. God planted, God watered, and God gave the increase. The next few months were filled with an almost embarrassing amount of joy as I cheered on this little plant, watching it grow and grow, climbing up plant stands and across a little fence. The day I saw my first tomato it was all I could do not to run around the neighborhood sharing the good news like a man who just found out he was going to be daddy. The day i picked my first ripe, red, juicy tomato I was nearly as overwhelmed as the day I had my first child. Like Jonah’s vine in the story from the Bible, I did nothing to make it grow, or help it along, and I will likely be saddened when it is time for it to go. I know it’s silly, and there are far more important things to worry about, but today I count it as one of my blessings, or as I’ve come to think of it, as one of God’s little graces that He places in our path each day to sustain us on our journey. The only thing I’ve ever grown is my midsection, but God decided to plant a little grace in my life. I can’t feed my family from it (although I did feed my wife a nice side dish of roasted balsamic vinegar tomatoes from it one night), but it has certainly fed my soul. I don’t have a garden. I’m not growing vegetables in raised beds and I don’t even have herbs growing in pots, but I have a fine Roma tomato vine that continues to spread and bear much fruit, and I’m proud of it. I come out every morning to check it and see what new excitement it has for me. Each day I count the new blooms, the little green tomato buds, the ripe tomatoes and how many are close to ripening. My early morning inventory has become one of the highlights of my day. As you go through your day today I hope you don’t forget to stop and smell the roses, or eat the tomatoes.”
Eight months later, my wife and I moved to Killen, Alabama, one week before Covid shut the world down. We suddenly had more free time than we knew what to do with, so we — inspired by our spontaneous tomato plant in Florida — to plant a garden. We put out a few tomato plants, some cucumber vines and a lavender bush. Did I mention before that I had zero experience or knowledge in gardening? I planted the garden — which I watered with five gallon buckets — way too far from the house, resulting in them not being watered nearly enough. We got a few cucumbers and a few tomatoes, but overall it wasn’t nearly as much fun as the “little vine that could” from a year before. In 2021 we decided to build some planter boxes up next to the house — and well within reach of my hose pipe — along with some squash, basil, peppers, okra, and eggplant. The eggplant did ok, the squash pretty good, the peppers and okra awful, but the tomatoes did amazingly well. We harvested so many tomatoes we couldn’t eat or freeze them all so we gave them away. It was such a joy seeing the excitement in people when we handed them a sack full of tomatoes of all varieties. 2022 rolled around, and for a variety of reasons, we didn’t fool with a garden, but once again, God let us know that he had plans of his own. Despite no attention from us, two tomato vines began to grow from the leftover seed and soil in the planter boxes. Two big, beautiful, healthy, and fully loaded vines spilled over the sides and across the ground. Whether or not I wanted to, I was going to grow tomatoes. Much like their Florida counterpart, these vines flourished without so much as me providing a drop of water. By the time 2023 rolled around we had a completely different attitude and plan. This time we wanted to plant a garden, a big garden. Enlisting the help of a half dozen or more people from our church family we put out a large community garden, filled with 30+ tomato and okra plants, rows of corn, beans, peppers, squash, melons, potatoes, carrots and more. The purpose of the garden was threefold: 1) to serve as a bonding experience for young and old to work together where the old shared their experience and knowledge and the young shared their strength and stamina, 2) help me to learn under the wisdom of experienced gardeners how to actually grow a successful garden, and 3) grow so much food that anyone in the church or neighborhood could come and pick whenever and whatever they wanted. It was a massive success in every way.
It’s now 2024 and just like the little tomato vine that sprang up from our compost bin, God has grown something in our hearts that we didn’t even know was planted. God planted the original garden and he put a man and a woman in that garden to be caretakers and expand its fruitfulness even further. He was inviting them to join in and participate with him in his works. Where they made a mess of things, he went to work in them, planting, pruning, cultivating, weeding and watering their hearts so that good fruit would bloom.
That story is an ancient story, but it is also as modern as this morning’s paper. People’s hearts and lives are full of weeds, their purpose seems to be a dry and fruitless vine, languishing in a barren lifestyle, but then the supreme gardener goes to work, shaping and training the branches to follow a different course. With much patience, and battles with endless pests, fruit begins to emerge. The great thing about fruit is it contains seeds within that will reproduce and the process begins again. This is the work of God and God is good. God is good AT what he does and God is good IN what he does. It may not always appear that way, but it ultimately proves to be that way. What we see as painful is often pruning. What we see as death and decay, God transforms into fertilizer, propelling greater growth. Our story with God begins in a garden and the story ends in a garden city.
Honey has her own perspective and unique experiences that brought her here, but that is her story to tell. This is the story of how I got here. I didn’t know it then, but that little tomato plant growing in a box, was God planting a seed in our hearts. It would take almost five years to blossom into this thing we call Home Grown Faith, but it’s finally bearing fruit. In hindsight, I feel like God was calling to us, not from a burning bush, but through a tomato plant. Maybe that sounds silly to you, but I’d like to close by sharing a couple of my favorite quotes with you:
“Every bush, every tree, every bird, every blade of grass, and every grain of sand is aflame with the glory of Christ. But if we rush through life in a mad dash and in a spiritual stupor, we miss it all.” - Brian Zahnd
“Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.”
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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