Month: April 2018

When I was a kid, we had a small vegetable garden in the backyard. The plant we could always count on to be a prolific producer was the zucchini. It would grow until it was almost a bush, and produce dozens, hundreds, millions of zucchini. It seemed there was always one hidden under a leaf that leaped to baseball bat proportions overnight. I would put them in paper bags and bring them to the neighbors. (Full disclosure: I would put them on the neighbors’ front porch, ring the doorbell, and run away so they couldn’t refuse. I assumed they didn’t like zucchini any more than I did.)

Have you ever seen a zucchini seed? It doesn’t look like much. It’s definitely not enough to fill the stomach, let alone satisfy the spirit. But there’s so much more to it than meets the eye.  The gardener planting peaches doesn’t see the pit. The pit looks dead and barren. It would be tough to chew and impossible to swallow.

Instead, the gardener looks at the pit and sees the fruit. She places the pit in the ground dreaming of peach cobbler and golden summer. Because she knows that hidden inside the pit is the seed of something greater.

Sometimes we look around and feel like all we have is a bunch of dry dirt and a handful of pits. We know this isn’t enough for a hungry soul. How can this barren land be what we were promised? We lose sight of the hope that dirt, those seeds contain; of the glory that’s within them.

Have you been there? Are you there now? The Old Testament prophet Haggai had a message from God for people in just that situation. “I am giving you a promise now while the seed is still in the barn. You have not yet harvested your grain, and your grapevines, fig trees, pomegranates, and olive trees have not yet produced their crops. But from this day onward I will bless you” (2:19).

The seed is still in the packets. It hasn’t even been planted yet. It looks like all you have is a big pile of dirt and rubble. There’s nothing to indicate that things are going well. There’s no reasonable expectation of blessing. But God gives you His word that in spite of all that, you can count on, rely on, trust in Him. There will be a harvest. Glory is coming.

Gardening is training in hope. Something dusty, dry and small undergoes a remarkable transformation that takes place entirely hidden from view. Seeds do their mysterious work buried in the dark. The gardener must wait, and watch, and keep faithfully tending and watering the soil with an expectation of something better to come.

Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of love. Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord, that he may come and shower righteousness upon you. Hosea 10:12

God can and will transform our wasteland into a land of plentiful abundance. But instead of teleporting us to Eden, He invites us to partner with Him in that transformation. We work steadily alongside Him, in blistering sun or stormy gale, and we gain ownership of the harvest. We truly take possession of the land. The crop of glory becomes ours.

Those who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit. So don’t get tired of doing what is good. Don’t get discouraged and give up, for we will reap a harvest of blessing at the appropriate time. Galatians 6:8-9

Maybe a small sound started her awake. I’m sure she would rather have stayed in sleep’s sweet oblivion. Her eyes were probably slow to adjust to the dark.  She could guess that dawn must not be too far off. It’s always darkest then, as if the sky dims to make way for the sun’s coming glory.

I imagine she slipped quietly from her bed and stood looking over the others. Let them forget a little while longer. But soon they were all awake, rustling in the darkness, gathering up their burden of grief and love.

It was definitely love that drew them out into the chilly, predawn air.  It was love that quickened their steps past places that reminded them of their raw, ragged-edged sorrow. But they didn’t linger. There would be plenty of time for weeping later.

How will we get in?  Even after all the incomprehensible events of the last few days, this was their most pressing question. It seemed impossible.

They were almost there. And then light so bright they had to close their eyes. Too bright for the sunrise. Was that a man?

They could never quite agree on the details of what happened next. It was so wonderful, so impossibly wonderful, that the story always came out in an excited jumble.

But his message – they would never forget that. Don’t be afraid, he said. I know you’re looking for Jesus, who was crucified. And then he smiled and it was like a blaze of glory. He isn’t here! He’s been raised from the dead, just as he said would happen. Come and see where his body was lying.

Maybe she gripped the woman next to her, whole body trembling. Still so much fear. And yet so much possibility. How could it be true? It was impossible. The light emanating from the man would have allowed them to see into the tomb’s darkness. It certainly wasn’t what any of them expected to see. No body. Just linen strips and bare rock. Where was the body?

Perhaps her heart was pounding so hard she almost missed what the man said next. Now go quickly and tell his disciples he’s been raised from the dead. You’ll see him in Galilee. Remember, I have told you.

Likely she had to shake herself, coming slowly out of her staring daze. Maybe she turned to her companion and asked, What did he say?

Don’t be afraid. Come and see. Go and tell. You’ll see Him again.

It would cancel out all their disappointment, all their sorrow. If it were true.

God had taken care of the guards, the stone, everything. Now the question was before them. Could they believe Jesus’ impossible message that He died so they could be restored to the goodness and glory they were made for? Could they believe that nothing, not even death, could stop God from accomplishing His plan to give them resurrection life?

All the evidence they’d seen, all they’d heard, demanded they place their bet on an long shot. It was a flicker of hope that lit a fire in them. They “ran quickly from the tomb. They were very frightened but also filled with great joy” (Matthew 28:8). A joy greater than their fear.

Maybe as they ran their memory was awakened.  Maybe whoever spoke first said, You know what the prophet Isaiah said? “Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my victorious right hand” (41:10).

One of King David’s songs might have burst out. “With all my heart I will praise you, O Lord my God. I will give glory to your name forever, for your love for me is very great. You have rescued me from the depths of death” (Psalm 86:12-13). Maybe someone remembered that His first words to Andrew were “Come and see” (John 1:39), and laughter started to bubble up. Perhaps it was then that they heard another voice call out a morning greeting to them.

It would have stopped them in their tracks for only a moment. Then flying as fast as their legs would carry them, stumbling over the ground, landing at His feet. Laughter and tears mingling. The air bursting with extravagant delight. Adoration. Love.

Any doubt would have evaporated like the morning dew in the presence of the sun. What more proof could they want than His presence? What more could they want than Him? When He spoke, He reminded them: Don’t be afraid. Go and tell the others. You will see me again.

I can see them in later years smiling kindly at those who couldn’t believe their fantastical tale. I know it sounds impossible. But I can never forget that morning. I woke up in darkness and then I saw the risen Son. I’m telling you, if you believe, Jesus will meet you. He’ll reveal Himself to you. You’ll see.

Drawn from Matthew 28:1-10