The Garden and God

Spring and fall have always been my favorite times of year. I love the weather—I’m a sucker for a good sweatshirt paired with shorts and tennis shoes. When the warm air settles in, the sun is shining, and there’s a gentle breeze, I feel this deep sense of hope.

Hope is steady. It’s anchored. And with a new season, I feel renewed.

But hope can also feel a little scary. We don’t know what weather lies ahead or what unexpected circumstances may come. Still, there’s a joyful anticipation—of new life, of growth, of something beautiful waiting to unfold.

The hibernating season is over. It’s time to step outside, into the sunshine, and bloom.

Growing up, I never really dreamed of having a garden. My grandmother had one, and I thought it was neat, but we lived in the “city,” and it just wasn’t part of our life. With a family of six, public school, church life as a pastor’s family, and extracurriculars, slowing down wasn’t really an option.

I don’t remember always saying I’d have a garden one day, but I do remember the spark coming after I had my son. I needed something to get me outside. And I figured—if I could keep two kids alive, maybe I could keep some vegetables alive too.

It turned out to be a huge success—and so much fun.

Now here we are in March 2026, about to begin our fourth year of gardening. The sun was shining, I had finished my spring cleaning inside, and it was finally time to head outdoors.

The garden… was a disaster.

Weeds had taken over the three raised beds. The soil was rough. Even the walkway was overgrown. It felt overwhelming. I started pulling weeds one by one, but honestly, it was hard work.

Then I remembered why I was doing it.

I want the harvest.

I want the fruit.

I want to break up the hard ground so something good can grow.

I want to learn through this process—to nourish my family and others.

This garden is worth it, even if I don’t see the fruit right away.

And truthfully, things could still go wrong. The plants could die. A worm could destroy them. There might not be enough rain. It might not turn out the way I hope. The harvest could be small.

But even knowing all that—I don’t lose hope.

Following Jesus can feel the same way.

The work is hard. There’s a lot to dig up and work through, especially when the “soil” of our lives feels tough—when habits are deeply rooted and hard to break. But the fruit is worth it.

And I don’t just mean eternity—though that alone is more than worth it, beyond what we can even comprehend. I mean the fruit we get to experience here and now:

• Leading someone to Christ for the first time

• Understanding a part of Scripture you once struggled with

• Sharing truth with someone right when they need it

• Watching your children grow to love Jesus

• Serving in ways you once only prayed about

And so much more.

It’s time to hold tightly to hope.

The work is hard—but the fruit is worth it.

You may not see it yet, but you will.

God has made us like a garden, and I’m so thankful He is the perfect gardener—growing fruit in my life as I tend to it and dwell with Him.