All posts tagged planting

Praise From a Bruised Reed

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about plants. I spend a lot of time with them and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s they’re delicate.

Today, I transplanted tiny basil plants outside. A few of them grew together and it fell upon me to separate them. I broke the soil blocks and gently pulled them apart, careful not to bruise the fragile root system.

So when my pastor spoke from the book of Matthew, about Jesus not breaking a bruised reed, I could relate.

The passage found in Matthew 12 is a quote from the Old Testament book of Isaiah 42:1-3

“Behold my servant, whom I uphold,

my chosen, in whom my soul delights;

I have put my Spirit upon him;

he will bring forth justice to the nations.

2 He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice,

or make it heard in the street;

3 a bruised reed he will not break,

and a faintly burning wick he will not quench;

he will faithfully bring forth justice.”

What is a reed anyway? It’s like a big piece of  injured grass. Woodwind instruments use reeds as mouthpieces. But they’re not bruised.

A bruised reed is useless.

But not to Jesus.

Oodles have been written about this passage, but what engaged my thinking was how compassionate Christ was. Just like I tried to treat my little basil plants with tender-loving-care, Jesus treats people with that same care.

People who are over-looked, down-trodden, and abused. Jesus cares about them. He notices them. He loves them. He died for them and offers them forgiveness.

He cares about bruised reeds like you and like me. People who have no ability to save themselves. People who are weak and know it.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

My pastor finished his Sunday message with this, “One day, when we get to heaven, praise and honor and glory to our Lord and Savior will be blown by those of us who are bruised reeds.”

Are you broken? Down-hearted. The doorway to heaven is open to humble people. People who know they need a Savior.

I’m going to finish with another passage from John 14:6, “I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

We can’t limp into heaven without Christ. We must bow before Him in adoration, repentance, and submission.

Will you enter?

Admit you’re a bruised reed?

 

Felling a Tree–A Day in the Life of a Farmer’s Wife Day 9

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Our mornings as organic farmers start out pretty much the same.

They. Start. With. Coffee.

After coffee, we worship. Then we decide what to do next. Sort of like a We-Don’t-Know-What-We’re-Doing-But-Let’s-Have-A Meeting-Anyway.

Kind of like government.

We have two GIGANTIC post-its on the wall. Seriously, they are 36″ x 30″ and they’re plastered sideways in our dining room. If you could look through a magical computer lens and gawk at it, you’d notice both post-its have rows. These represent our crops. On the rows, we’ve listed what we planted.

The trouble is, I can’t figure if I’m looking down on our graph, or at it, or behind it so I don’t really know where anything is in our field–which by the way is growing actual vegetables.

I regress.

Anyway, the other day we were basically finished with planting, so we had a planting break.

“What should we do today, Tom?”

“How about we cut down a few trees?”

I grabbed rugged shoes, a floppy hat, and Siri.

My job consisted of emergency stand-by in case Tom lost a body part. My mascot, Sam, sniffed around while I held the phone and admired my lumber-jack husband.

Tom successfully “felled” (I think that is the term.) two trees that were in the way of the trucks delivering our modular home. (Our already made home that will be delivered to us in a few weeks is a whole different story.)

The third tree stood dead center on our homesite. We had the excavator leave it because of its beauty. Over a hundred foot high, the tall poplar swayed in the breeze not knowing it would soon be cut down. But, it had to go. I hugged it and said good bye.

First, Tom cut a large wedge in one side. Nothing. Then he made large cuts in the other side. Nada. He drove the tractor over and gave it a shove. It stood.

“I don’t know how this tree is hanging on here!” Tom shouted while I stood a safe half-of-a-football-field away.

Finally, he walked away. A breeze blew up from the south. The tree hesitated and then laid its mighty limbs down–the opposite way Tom wanted it to fall.

One day, it may be a 10 foot dining room table in my house. It would meet interesting people and hear lots of laughter. I think if I were a tree, I’d like that.

As a farmer’s wife, I never know what will happen on any given day, and really, neither do you.

Except coffee.

And worship.

Here is a video of what we’ve planted. Filmed about 5 days ago, our stuff has almost doubled in size!

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