What Moves the Earth?

Early this morning, as I made my routine visit to our vegetable garden, a little prayer kept running in my mind: 

"Please, Lord, help the seeds to sprout. I have no life to give them but You are the Source of all life."

I knelt low and checked the radish and pechay seedbed, and lo and behold, some seeds have already begun to sprout. One here and a couple there. Amazed and grateful, I drew even closer and saw the teeny tiny crack in the teeny tiny seed, where a white-yellowish stem had come through and struck root in the soil. And then the thought:

“But I buried that seed!” Not very deep, of course, but deep enough to cover it entirely. Now the seed has emerged to the surface, having pushed away the soil above it.

I look around at all the vegetables and flowers and the big trees. They all started this way and have continued this way - moving the earth by simply reaching higher and wider and deeper.

So what moves the earth, really?

In the garden today I realized: growth.

The development of all our powers is the first duty we owe to God and to our fellow men. No one who is not growing daily in capability and usefulness is fulfilling the purpose of life. In making a profession of faith in Christ we pledge ourselves to become all that it is possible for us to be as workers for the Master, and we should cultivate every faculty to the highest degree of perfection, that we may do the greatest amount of good of which we are capable. Christ’s Object Lessons, 329.2

Lessons the Weeds Taught Me

“Laluma paglimpisa (Make the blade go deeper),” my mother said as she came up behind me weeding in our vegetable garden. Almost immediately I recognized the life lesson in her words.

My mother is one of my two gardening mentors, the other one being my father. Between the two of them, I feel like a little child playing in the dirt: Most of the time, I get dirty, I don’t know what I’m actually doing, but I have fun anyway. Besides, gardening is a wonderful time to be alone, work my underused muscles, meditate, and learn something new.

Whenever I come to the garden, I always think, “This is my heart.” As I struggle to break the ground with a hoe, sweat streaming down my face, I tell myself how I must persevere and be patient because God is at least this patient with the fallow ground of my heart.

So when Mama said I should make the blade go deeper, I knew that the lesson for today was to allow the Word of God to take a deeper, closer search into my heart, and take sin out of my life by the roots.

The work of sanctification is not just about the dos and don’ts. It’s not just about correcting the behaviour that shows. When I’m only cutting away the weeds at the surface, it won’t be long before they come up again because the roots are still there and very much alive. The blade must go deeper. The wellsprings of the heart must be cleansed of selfishness.

Truth must reach down to the deepest recesses of the soul, 

and cleanse away everything unlike the spirit of Christ…. 

                                                -EGW, Our High Calling

The thought also led me to remember a tip that a good friend told me a couple of years ago: “When you’ve pulled out the weeds by the roots, make sure to cast them away from your garden. Don’t leave them there because they have a way of taking up root again.” This was also very true in my spiritual life. How many times have I “decided” to quit a bad habit only to come back to it later because I kept the uprooted sin close? Countless.

It’s like the time I decided to never read fiction again, but kept the books in the shelves anyway. There would be times when I’d look at the books and think, “there was that part in this one that I particularly liked.” And I’d take that book out and scan through it, find the part I was looking for, and spend the rest of the afternoon reading through to the end of the book.

Cast the uprooted weed away.

So I strike deeper into the ground, pull out the weeds with my other hand and throw them on top of a growing pile to be taken away later.

These are what I was reminded of today among the peanuts, eggplants, talong, sili, and what-nots. These are the kind of lessons I learn in the classroom that my father had enclosed with a net fence – itself another object lesson, another story. But that’s for another gardening day. Today I was only beginning to prepare the soil for planting.

I got dirty, I had fun, and I learned what I ought to be doing.God be glorified.

Whose Daughter Art Thou?

All day today, questions brewed and boiled in my head. Mostly Whys and Hows, but also Whos. I prayed to the Lord for answers, and through tonight's devotional I realized that I already knew the answer from a lecture I heard at PYC a couple of weeks ago.

My devotional tonight was about the Old Testament prophecies that pointed to the then-coming Messiah, and how they were all fulfilled in Jesus. Now this wasn't really directly related to my questions. But it reminded me to get to know my Saviour even deeper.

That was it. To know my God.

Just like that I was reminded of Genesis 24, the search for a wife for Isaac.

Among Rebekah's other qualifications, this was what struck me the most:

Genesis 24:23-25
...and said, Whose daughter art thou? tell me, I pray thee: is there room in thy father’s house for us to lodge in?
And she said unto him, I am the daughter of Bethuel the son of Milcah, which she bare unto Nahor.
She said moreover unto him, We have both straw and provender enough, and room to lodge in.

Rebekah knew whose daughter she was. She knew her place in her father's house. She was confident not only of her identity in her father, but also of the kind of provisions her father is able to offer.

Whose daughter art thou? Whose daughter am I?

I have a Father in heaven who loves me. I am precious to Him. He desires my good. He is able and willing to provide for my every need, including the building up of my character. He gave Jesus for me; He gave Jesus to me.

I can only be confident of who I am when I come to truly know my Creator and Father.

And in this-- in this I find my quest and my rest.