September 15, 2003

WAITING

I went through a gardening phase when I was a child. My Parents helped me select seeds that were sure to sprout and give me a sense of accomplishment. On the vegetable side, I remember radishes and carrots. On the flower side, only zinnias stand out.

Zinnias: The outside of the package promised big, showy flowers in a variety of colors. That’s what was wrapped up in those little brown seeds. Under my benevolent gardener hand, the seeds would explode into beauty.

I followed the directions carefully. I treated every little seed with respect as I laid it in its soil bed. I surrounded my garden with a “Keep-Out” string and hung the empty package on a stick in the ground at one corner. I stepped back and imagined where the orange flowers would be, and the red, and the white.

Every day I came home from school and checked out my garden. The seeds were still sleeping; no signs of life. I watered faithfully and made sure the string barrier was secure. Day after day—no sprouts. The package had warned me that it would take two weeks, but I didn’t take that seriously. My seeds were different—they were loved. I expected them to jump up any moment with their little green arms outstretched toward me.

Finally, I decided it was hopeless. Weeds were sprouting up all over my garden patch, but not one of my baby zinnias had come out to see the sun. I had gotten a bad batch. The Burpee Seed Company had lied. They sold me dead seeds.

As I remember it, I actually stopped watering the plot for a day or two, thinking it was a wasted effort. And then, something caught my eye—a different shaped leaf among the weedlets. I checked the picture on the package that indicated what a new sprout would look like, and to my amazement I saw that my little green wonder was indeed a zinnia.

Well, the rest is history. Many zinnia seeds sprouted, but my watering and weeding became more sporadic as neighborhood baseball games gained more of my attention, now that summer was here. There was a considerable amount of zinnia mortality, but some of the more stubborn plants matured and blossomed in all the colors on the package-picture. I was amazed at how hearty and assertive they were, in spite of my neglect.

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Waiting is hard, but you can’t rush a process that God has built into his creation. This is true with physical things, like the growth of plants. It is also true with spiritual things, like the growth of Christian character.

The ability to wait is called patience, and it is not something we are born with. We have to learn it through a series of small lessons, like my zinnia-planting phase. Ultimately, we need a large dose of God’s grace to have the patience life will demand of us. This gift is available to all those who experience spiritual birth, and it is one aspect of the “fruit of the Spirit” made famous by the Apostle Paul:
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”
(Galatians 5:22)

Patience is just one of the blooms in the flower-garden of a Spirit-cultivated life. Quite a profusion of color and beauty!

–Pastor George Van Alstine