I remember it far too well--the scene that still gives me nightmares. Several months ago I looked out the window and saw Justin and Trevor planting vegetables. In our front yard.
It's not like we live on a farm. No, we live in a normal neighborhood with a very picky Homeowner's Association. I just didn't see this going well. I was told that soon we'd have tomatoes, squash, even pumpkins sprouting up right next to our front walkway. Ooh, marvelous--a pumpkin patch in our front yard. I could just envision families coming to take pictures--all we needed was a tractor for hayrides!
ANYWAY, I secretly kept hoping that nothing would grow from those seeds. And at first I was optimistic, because nothing was popping up. Until one day I saw little green sprouts, and my heart sank. It wasn't long before there were big, huge veggie vines in my front yard. Veggie vines! Couldn't have been daisies or daffodils or tulips--had to be veggie vines.
And why wouldn't there be? After all, vegetable seeds were planted, so vegetables were growing. Why should I expect any other outcome?
And yet there are times in my life when I scatter sinful seeds of things I hope won't take root, won't yield anything. But then I wait expectantly for everything to come up roses. How my heart will sink when I see those little green sprouts that are anything but beautiful. Those seeds HAVE taken root, and they're producing something.
And yet in the same way when I pray for Justin or when I speak the Word of God over my children, I'm casting seeds there, too. And I can trust that we will see the evidence of that sowing process. Isaiah 55:10-11 say, "As the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return to it without watering the earth, making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth; it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it." All of this sowing of seeds--it will yield something. It won't return empty.