Yesterday Karen had me out in the garden. Springtime in Georgia is wonderful. First the tulip trees and Bradford pears bravely test the March air. They are quickly joined by a proliferation of jonquils poking up at their feet. Soon the azaleas like trumpet blasts follow, blaring a riot of colors that are almost neon in intensity. And finally, languidly, almost with a yawn, the lavender-like wisteria joins the parade of foliage.

All of this activity by Mother Nature seems to stir up the gardener in many erstwhile hibernating souls. Karen’s ambition, I think, is to turn our whole yard into one big garden. So, she had me plowing up two large sections of it yesterday. This morning, the birds are reaping the bounty of bugs and worms the plow uncovered.

The Lord pointed me to a passage in Ezekiel that gives a spiritual application:
“But you will produce branches and fruit for my people…I am concerned for you and will look on you with favor; you will be plowed and sown, and I will multiply the number of people upon you.” Ezekiel 36:9-10

Plowing is a violent act. The soil is ripped open and up-ended. It is also a hopeful act – done in anticipation of fruit. One of my children has recently been going through some “plowing.” It is a painful process. But without it, there would be no flowering and no fruit. Part of me wishes that the plowing would just end and the fruit-bearing begin. But the process takes time – it can’t be hurried.

The master gardener plows us so that He can sow seed. When we’re being sown, we must look past the pain; we must see the plowing as a hopeful act. If you’ve been plowed lately, I pray that God enables you to see a glimpse of the fruit that lies ahead for you.