Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Our youngest daughter has quite an impressive green thumb with flowers. Perhaps it is her love for the final results, her unmitigated delight over the beauty of fully blooming marigolds and dahlias, violas and pansies, begonias and geraniums. She has planted all of the above (and a few others) somewhere on our property. Nearly every available pot, bed, and planter is filled with her obvious joy in the glorious riot of color they add to the landscape. 

It was this joy that had her heart leaping, her eyes dancing as we entered the garden department of a local home improvement store and heard the words, “Everything on these two racks is free. Take it straight to your car.” A thousand oxen couldn’t have pulled her away from those racks. Careful to leave some for others, we filled our hands with her choices. Two decent-looking begonias. A handful of salvageable dahlias. And an entire flat of quickly dying violas. 

Reviving them was going to be a monumental task. Especially those violas. They had only a few blossoms, a little green foliage, and a liberal amount of shriveling brown leaves. So incredibly sad looking were those plants, I felt it necessary to warn her they might not make it. Her efforts might be all for naught. She was undeterred. She believed they could be revived.  

Unfortunately, it rained heavily for the next couple of days. Weather unfit for planting anything. The violas sat in the garage an extra day or two with no sunlight. They looked sadder still. Hope for their survival diminished. When the weather lightened, she planted those flowers. Mixing special potting soil with older soil, she carefully set the plants and filled the dirt around them. Then she watered them. Not with plain water from the garden hose. No. She mixed multiple watering cans of plant food and water, walked all around the house and gardens, and fed all her plants–flourishing or dying–water that would keep them alive and cause them to grow and blossom and bloom in a gorgeous display of resurrection. 

Only one of those dying plants succumbed. The rest survived. Flourished. Grew. Blossomed. Bloomed. Until the deer came. Under the cover of darkness, in spite of the abundant grass and hay growing on our property, the deer came in and ate nearly all the flowers off a large pot of violas. The other pots were next. We did everything we could. Replanting. Watering. Feeding. Hanging flash tape. Setting out marigolds. Walking the dog around the property to spread her scent. Nothing really seemed to work. 

The deer continue to visit. Nightly they arrive in the back pasture innocuously grazing on the tall grasses. When complete darkness falls and the humans and canines inhabiting the house sleep, they venture closer to eat the plants sitting by the porch. It is discouraging, yet still she faithfully works. Water. Plant food. Patience. Hope. Some days she feels frustrated, but never throws in the towel, never uproots the plant to toss it in the bin. No. She just keeps doing what she knows to do and leaves the rest to the Master Gardener.    

It’s a good thing, too. As easy as it would be to worry and fret about those deer, she would gain nothing for the effort. She’d lose the sleep she needs to gain the energy it takes to persevere in faithfully cultivating plants that flourish. She’d look at neighboring gardens with higher fences and more menacing dogs and find herself enviously comparing their efforts and results with her own. She’d grow angry and frustrated at the alleged waste of her time and may be tempted to stop working, stop trying, stop being faithful. She’d do all the things she shouldn’t do if she wants her gardens–both physical and spiritual–to grow successfully. I know this because the Psalmist said so.

Earlier this month, I read the words of Psalm 37:1-9. It was not the first time I’ve read them. Not even the first time this year. I’ve read them three times in the past twelve months. I’ve underscored parts of them. Apparently, it took some shriveled-up plants and a tenacious teen to teach me what God was trying to say through David all along. Don’t fret. Don’t worry. Don’t look around you at what is going on in society or at people who prosper through evil means, and allow envy, frustration, and anger to build. Don’t get distracted by the things of the world. Focus on God. Cultivate faithfulness. 

The Bible translation I am currently reading literally translates Psalm 37:3 with those words. “Cultivate faithfulness.” Work at it. Plant it. Water it. Nurture it. Encourage it. Grow it. Faithfulness doesn’t happen overnight. Some days it might not happen at all. So get up the next day and work at it some more. Don’t stop. Don’t give up. Don’t look around and measure yourself by your neighbor, your pastor, your mentor, your friend. Keep your nose in your own garden. Weed it. Tend it. Carefully, constantly cultivate faithfulness to Jesus Christ alone. (II Corinthians 10:12)

It will not be easy. There will always be something to draw you aside. Something you wish you had. Something you wish you could do. Some blessing someone else received that causes a twinge of envy. Some days you will question why evil so frequently trumps good. You might be tempted to give it a go yourself. Your wandering gaze will encourage your heart to fret over the present, worry over the future, be angry, upset, and agitated with the earthly success of evildoers. Stop it. Stop looking around. That’s not your job. (Proverbs 23:17, 24:19;   

Your job is to cultivate faithfulness. Your job is to do what you know is right to do and leave everything else in the capable hands of the Master Gardener. Trust Him. Trust the Lord even when it seems safer to trust something you can see and touch and manipulate. Trust Him enough to purposely do good. Always. Even when no one else is doing it. Especially when no one else is doing it. Commit all your ways to Him. Everything. Past. Present. Future. Give it all to Him. Keep your meddling hands to yourself! Trust doesn’t take things back. It leaves them alone. It believes that He will do what is in your best interest. Always. It delights itself in pleasing God. So settle in. Rest in Him. Be patient. Allow yourself to dwell where God has placed you, put down roots, and determinedly work every day to cultivate faithfulness to the One who never fails to be faithful and true. (Psalm 37:1-9, 16-19, 27-28,34; Proverbs 3:5-6; Isaiah 12:2, 26:3; Psalm 9:10; Psalm 33:4)

It will be worth it. Immensely! Amazingly! Overwhelmingly worth it! The constant tending and nurturing will keep your soul alive in every storm of temptation, make it thrive in a world of spiritual dryness and death, and flourish when it seems like only evil wins. It will keep your gaze Heavenward amid the world’s theatrics. It will keep your life rooted and grounded in soil you can trust to strengthen and feed your soul no matter what comes. Peace louder than chaos. Faith stronger than fear. Focused faithfulness to the God who has never let His people down. (Proverbs 4:23; Matthew 12:35; Matthew 7:24-27; Psalm 91:14-15; Joshua 21:45)

There are hanging pots of petunias gently swinging in the breeze outside my window as I write this. By the back porch steps sit planters of thriving marigolds and salvia. Near the raspberry patch stands an old wooden wagon filled with snapdragons and marigolds. Around the front porch light and in front of the woodshed violas and dahlias and begonias dance in the breeze. Indoors is my tired, but happy daughter. Her hard work, her faithfulness has come to fruition. Against the odds, in spite of relentless rain, marauding deer, a recent bout of ridiculous heat, and myriad other frustrations and annoyances, her consistency has paid off.  It has all been worth it. Every moment of concern and irritation. Every ounce of energy. Every hour of tending and cultivating has culminated in the beautiful riot of blooms visible from nearly every window of our home. Her time and effort have unequivocally been worth it.

Yours will be too. As you spend time cultivating faithfulness in trusting and resting in Christ, your soul will become a peaceful, beautiful paradise. A safe haven from the raging weirdness of the world. A calm refuge from the storms of life. Your heart, your mind, your soul will rest, completely rest, in the peace of Christ that surpasses all comprehension of man. And, when things go pear-shaped–and they will–that faithful trust in the God who never fails will be rewarded as He preserves your soul from all evil. He will sustain you. He will delight in you. He will hold your hand. He will help you, deliver you, strengthen you. He will never allow your steps to slip. You can trust Him. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. His response to your faithfulness will never change. So settle down, settle in. Rest in God. Trust Him. In the big things. In the small things. In everything. Practice faithfulness. Grow it. Cultivate it…and leave everything else to Him! (Psalm 37:17,23-24,28, 31, 39-40; Psalm 121; Hebrews 13:8; Psalm 46:1)