Growth

There’s no formula for proving it, of course, but I am quite certain my emotional age is noticeably behind my physical age. I suppose that helps a bit if I want to interact with young people, but generally I find it a hindrance. My growth over the years has been stunted. 

With gardening, a number of factors influence plant growth. Soil, sunlight, water, surrounding plants, and wildlife in the area are probably just a few. Variables related to these could promote or stunt the growth of the plant in a variety of ways, but the plant itself doesn’t have any control over these factors. That’s where the difference is between a plant and me; the things that have truly stunted my growth have been choices I have made. No blaming circumstances. 

But God is faithful to repay what the locusts have eaten, even when I am the one who invited them to chow down, and this is his kindness at work. The gospel seed he has sown in me is still growing, always will be, and I will never really be able to explain how or why apart from his abundant grace. 

Forward progress, then, doesn’t look like self-analyzing my way to maturity. I can’t reason that out any more than the farmer can reason out how, as he sleeps and rises night and day, the seed sprouts and grows. He knows what he has to do to keep it growing, but the unseen mechanics of it are lost in the mystery of God’s power at work. My part is merely being even more captivated by the beauty of Jesus and allowing the simple act of hoping in him to purify me even as he is pure.  

Growth, then, becomes fundamentally a question of posture. If I lean toward self-analysis and fleshly striving, it won’t end well as I cut myself from real nourishment. If, on the other hand, I lean into the beauty of Jesus, I receive everything I need to flourish. There’s no starving my soul with him as he fills me with as much of his goodness as I can handle, and then refills me after I have given it out to other people. This is my nourishment; this is how, like Jesus, my real feast is in doing the Father’s will. 

I don’t know how you’ll do it, Father, but you will. Blade, ear, and full grain.

Fred Swartz