It started with the zucchinis
Sixteen zucchinis were piled haphazardly on my counter. Excessive growth for an average household! I seasonally forget how much time a garden harvest demands from me every summer. Preserving vegetables, making jam, searching for ways to use zucchini (surprisingly, no one asked for a repeat of the zucchini oatmeal recipe). My garden yields enjoyment, but confiscates time.
As per our regular summer routine, the children and I trooped out to the garden late in August to investigate what needed our attention. A gorgeous sunny morning, the garden offered a personal grocery produce section. Carrots, peas, pumpkin, raspberries—the children ran delighted picking samples from vines and bushes. The plants seemed to have synchronized a last hoorah, evidence that, indeed, hard work is rewarded.
As I bent down to pull strawberries from the freshly weeded patch, my thoughts turned to other responsibilities that I struggle daily to cultivate. Who benefits from all the work I pour into my children? I mused.
By faith, I envision their fruitful futures after this adolescent season of growth finishes. Obviously, their spiritual harvest and growing character is not for my gluttonous consumption. I thought about Jesus’ words in John 15 about bearing much fruit and how without him we “can do nothing” (v. 5). Then I realized the magnificent truth that their fruit (like my own) is for the praise and glory of God. “This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit” (v. 8).
My heart filled with joy, triumphing over the weariness I had felt as I dutifully trudged to the garden a few moments earlier. I was participating in my children’s spiritual maturation in order that the Father may receive more praise!
I often struggle with contentment in the thankless, mundane tasks of feeding breakfasts, correcting errors, and training in righteousness. These ordinary tasks seem relatively unimportant in the moment (like pulling one pesky dandelion from a long carrot row). I want to see immediate results for my service. I want to know now that my life is meaningful and fruitful.
Recently, I read about Marie Durand of France. In 1730, she was arrested at the age of 18 because of her and her family’s Protestant views in a Roman Catholic country. She spent 38 years imprisoned, refusing to recant her faith. Marie entered the Tower of Constance in her youthful prime and was released eight years before her death.
Was her life of any value to Christ’s kingdom while it wasted away in captivity year after excruciating year? Yet who am I to question the Creator on his plan (Job 38; Romans 9:20)?
I wish for significance and purpose. He says I am to “live by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7; see also Hebrews 11:1). It is enough. Abiding in Christ’s perfect love results in obedience and completed joy (John 15:9–11). His love compels me to tend to my daily responsibilities because it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me (2 Corinthians 5:14; Galatians 2:20)! What more do I require, but the learned contentment of daily faithfulness (Philippians 4:11)?
