The Grace of Germination

The Grace of Germination

Our tiny greenhouse is filled with trays of seeds that are not bearing fruit. A few have pushed up through the dirt of the small, biodegradable pots made from a material like coffee filters.

But the majority have remained burrowed down deep, refusing to struggle and push up toward the sunlight, where they will bloom and grow only to eventually get replanted.

I mentioned that my seedlings weren’t sprouting at a family dinner the other week.

My husband’s uncle tilted his head. “They might come up once the sun starts shining.” 

Two days later, I went back out to the greenhouse to water and take another look. A few of the seedlings had pushed up through the dirt, but a majority of the little pots were bare.

Standing there, I thought how good it is that God doesn’t judge me like I judge those seedlings. Five days of dormancy, and I want to chuck those suckers and begin anew.

They’re not doing what I planted them for: they’re not producing fruit; they’re not growing; they’re not pushing toward the light.

But God, in His mercy, does not do that to us. To me.

He sees the germination taking place, even if it’s not visible to the eye. And so He waits and waters and watches, nurturing the little pots of our lives with a gardener’s gentle hand, knowing the struggle that must take place for the little seeds to bloom.

And then I imagine He sits back, and His smile is like a slice of sun, warming the ground, and the seeds have no choice but to push up toward this brilliant Light, so they can bloom and grow only to eventually get replanted, as each seed takes place in the beautiful intricacy that’s called the garden of life.

Have you ever seen a spiritual metaphor in nature?