Harvesting Seeds I Never Planted

My gardens have runneth over. The forty-eight tomatoes I planted back in May didn’t seem like enough to feed my family their favorite tomato-based foods for the next year. But in August? I’m harvesting five-gallon buckets full of the luscious red orbs, cooking them down with seasonings, and canning them for future feasts.

Transplanting those small, delicate, leafy plants is dangerous business. One wrong step, one missed watering, one strong wind, or one hungry rabbit can erase the promise of future fruit in an instant. And tomatoes aren’t the only vulnerable crops in my garden. Last year, my daughter’s duck polished off my peas and cabbage in one night of unrestrained gluttony. You might think I should just give up this tenuous food sovereignty quest and rely on others to plant my seeds and grow my food.

That would be easy, oh-so-easy.

But it isn’t what I am called to do. I am a farmer. I grow food. I plant seeds. I tend them to the best of my ability in the hope that fruit is produced. The growing season here on the northern plains is fast and furious. Plants grow seemingly overnight. Crops are planted and harvested in just one hundred and twenty days.

Other foods take longer. I plant trees that I have to tend for years before I will see any kind of fruit. I’ve been waiting for apples for seven years. There is a Chinese proverb that says, “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.” Some plantings take a generation to bear fruit.

The seeds we plant in life are the same. Some seeds are like radishes, only twenty-one days from sowing to harvest. Teaching a child to tie their shoes or memorize their phone number can happen pretty quickly. Encouraging a friend, making someone laugh, or sharing a meal can yield a quick harvest as well.

Proverbs 20:4 says, “A farmer too lazy to plant in the spring has nothing to harvest in the fall.” (MSG) If we want to grow loving relationships, we have to plant the seeds.

What about those seeds we plant again and again that never seem to grow? That neighbor who does nothing but growl at your offers of kindness, that teen who rolls his eyes and humphs at everything you say, and that family member who insists on instigating family drama are all long-term harvests. They require us to plant seeds of kindness, joy, patience, and love. They require us to tend them, pulling the weeds of bitterness and scorn, fertilizing with a smile and encouragement. And, like my apple trees, it may be years before we even see a smile blossom, much less the fruit of reciprocated kindness.

It can be weary and tiresome to keep tending with kindness, especially when there is no sign of life. I planted four grape vines this past spring and then waited with boundless enthusiasm for that first bud to form, that first leaf, that first sign of life.

I waited. And waited.

I called a friend who had also planted grapevines to ask her if anything was happening to her vines. Nothing.

I called a friend who has had grapes for years and she laughed. “Oh Annie, you won’t see anything for three more weeks at least!”

Her gentle chastisement reminded me that I was asking my grapes to appear before they were ready. I needed to be patient. I needed to tend them diligently without expectation for the weeks to come. The joy I felt when those first leaves appeared was glorious. There was life!

As followers of Christ, we are called to tend others. Sometimes Jesus calls us his sheep, or fruit, or crops—all things we are to tend and harvest.

“Then Jesus made a circuit of all the towns and villages. He taught in their meeting places, reported kingdom news, and healed their diseased bodies, healed their bruised and hurt lives. When he looked out over the crowds, his heart broke. So confused and aimless they were, like sheep with no shepherd. “What a huge harvest!” he said to his disciples. “How few the workers! On your knees and pray for the harvest hands!” (Matthew 9:35-38 MSG)

We are the harvesting hands Jesus asked for; we are the ones to sow seeds with our fellow humans. We are the ones to tend those tender relationships, even when—especially when—there is no sign of life. You may never see the harvest in your lifetime. There are harvests happening now from seeds planted generations ago.

As kingdom people, we are not in the results business. There is no heavenly scorecard. There are only the hearts God gives us to tend in his name. If you are struggling with what seems like a futile harvest, relax. Keep tending the hearts God has given you. Paul gives us, and the Galatians, a list of ways to tend and grow the relationships in our life:

“But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates all things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.” (Galatians 5:22-23, MSG)

Paul reminded the Galatians and he reminds us: The secret to all of this sowing and tending and harvesting is that the one who is grown the most is you.

Annie Carlson is rooted like a turnip to the plains of North Dakota where she raises great food, large numbers of farm animals, and three free-range kids with her husband. You can find her with either a book or knitting needles in her hands as she dreams up her next adventure.