“I planted the seed in your hearts, and Apollos watered it,                                                                                                     but it was God who made it grow.”  1 Corinthians 3:6 NLT

A miniature oak orchard! It wasn’t what I expected to find growing in our yard after the deluge of rain. I expected a huge crop of mosquitoes. Instead there were hundreds of little trees sprouted, seemingly over night.

I never knew the acorns were there.

Our neighborhood squirrels usually run and scamper and play in the trees of our back yard. I never saw them burying their treasures all across the front lawn.

We may never know the seeds we’ve planted for God’s kingdom. A kind word here, an encouraging note there, a prayer to brighten someone’s day, a scripture to share the love of Jesus. All these seemingly minor things can be seeds of the Gospel of Christ sown in someone’s heart.

Wandering the aisles at Wal-mart, it’s all about my to-do list and agenda. I keep my head down in order not to make eye contact. I try to get in and out as quickly as possible. Think of what I am missing! Others may have sown seeds I can’t see. My focus is on my hurried schedule. How about you?

We never realize we have been walking past a field full of seeds, waiting for harvest.

I didn’t know how long the acorns had been planted.

We have been flooded with rain for several weeks. Not only is the ground drenched, our front yard looks like a lake. The acorns could have been buried there for months. It took weeks of constant, soaking rain to soften them enough to grow trees.

One thing I know about seeds: they need to be soaked to sprout. All the little oak trees had been saturated from the rain. The hard outer cover of the acorn had softened enough to crack the shell and allow the inner plant to sprout.

Some seeds take a long time to sprout. The harder the shell, the longer the sprouting process.

Have you encountered someone with a hard shell? They may need a little extra water, a little more tending, before they become soft and tender. Some people need to be soaked. Continue watering, even when you don’t see any results.

We need to water seeds we’ve planted, as well as seeds others may have planted. I’ll admit, I’ve never thought about how I could water someone else’s seeds. But let’s assume that everyone who crosses our path this week has had a Gospel seed planted in their heart. How can we water it with our words and actions?

The acorns sprouted.

I’m sure the squirrels were just as surprised as I was to see their acorns sprouting all over the yard. It seems like one day we had a yard full of water, and the next it was full of tiny oak trees!

I was so very blessed to see a seed sprout this past summer. At Vacation Bible School, my nine-year-old granddaughter asked Jesus to be her Savior. Many people planted and watered the seed of the Gospel in her heart. What a beautiful thing to see it sprout!

We may never see the growth of the Gospel seeds we’ve planted this side of heaven. Should we stop sowing and watering? No indeed! Our job is to plant, water and nurture these seeds of love. God will cause them to grow.

[tweetthis]Gospel seeds need to be sown and soaked to sprout.[/tweetthis]

Every place we go is a mission field, waiting for seeds to be scattered: the grocery store, the coffee shop, our workplace. Now is not the time to play it safe. It’s time to throw buckets full of seeds of God’s love, and soak them with the Gospel truth that Jesus saves.

Until next week,

 

 

Joining these lovely writers. Be sure to visit their pages, you’ll be encouraged!

Suzie Eller,  Live Free Thursday

Susan at Dance with Jesus

Barbie at The Weekend Brew

Kelly at Purposeful Faith

Holly at Testimony Tuesday

Holley at Coffee for Your Heart

Jennifer at Tell His Story

Jana at Sweet to the Soul

The tears didn’t start when she thanked the women of our church for sending oodles of hand creams and girly items to the Alaska Women’s Conference.

When she told us how the Alaskan women were amazed that we cared enough to send lotions to strangers, the tears still didn’t come. They stayed bottled up in my tear ducts, even when she told us about the women in Nome who met Jesus for the first time, and who are finally living free of their past. Generational abuse, alcoholism and suicide run rampant in Alaska. But these women chose the freedom of Christ over the prison of their environment, backgrounds and circumstances.

They finally, slowly dripped down my checks when she told us about Mrs. Francis, a half white/half native 83 year old that she met in the Nome nursing home. She had been massaging Mrs. Francis’ legs, hands and face with the lotion we sent, listening to her stories of triumph and pain, and reading Mrs. Francis’ favorite scripture for her.

Silent, racking sobs shook my body when she said this: We wanted to go to the nursing home and sit with the ladies, listen to their stories and pray with them. We wanted to massage their hands, if they would allow us. Because there is such power in physical touch. It makes such a difference.  And we all need that gentle, physical touch, don’t we?

Memories came flooding back. Mama in the hospital, after her stroke. She couldn’t speak or move her right side. But the expression in her deep blue eyes told us everything. Many times she would throw her left foot out from under the heavy hospital blanket, her brow furrowing in pain…or was it fear?

I asked if she wanted me to rub her feet with her favorite peppermint lotion. Mama’s eyes softened as she nodded “Yes.” I rubbed and massaged the lotion up and down her legs, gently moving her stiff right leg. She couldn’t say anything, but the quiet “ahhhhhhh” that came out of her mouth let me know she was enjoying the soft kneading of her muscles. Her frown line relaxed.

My love for her flowed through the lotion on my hands. That physical touch had to communicate my feelings to her. Mama couldn’t speak because of the stroke; I couldn’t speak because the lump in my throat wouldn’t allow words to pass.

I always wondered if that small act of service had made a difference in my Mama’s last days. After hearing the story of Mrs. Francis, I knew God was telling me that yes, it had.  Anytime you are the hands and feet of Jesus, it makes a difference.

I think I might make it to Nome one January for the AK Missions Women’s Conference. Because a loving touch from caring hands is powerful.  Because the forgotten women in America’s last frontier deserve a little pampering. They deserve to have someone listen to their stories of triumph through unspeakable pain. Their stories of living free in Christ deserve to be told. Any of you bloggers and writer’s want to join me? Instead of Compassion Bloggers, we could be Alaskan Bloggers!

“Little children, let us stop just saying we love people; let us really love them, and show it by our actions.” 1 John 3:18 (TLB)

Until next week,

 

 

 

Linking up with these lovely writers:

Suzie Eller,  Live Free Thursday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Susan at Dance with Jesus

Barbie at The Weekend Brew

Kelly at Purposeful Faith

Holly at Testimony Tuesday

Holley at Coffee for Your Heart

Jennifer at Tell His Story