Seeds for Sowing

What God Grows in Us is Meant to Multiply

This week, I attended a women’s event at our church. During worship, my friend Corina gently led us into an encounter with the Lord, and in that moment, Jesus gently brought me back to my grandma’s garden.

Grandma Gerken had a beautiful garden on the farm. I can still see it so clearly.

There were giant weeping willow trees at the back of the property, their branches swaying in the breeze. The house was surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges, with little openings at the corners so we could pass through. 

We lived across the road, directly across from her garden, and it always felt like I belonged there. It always felt like home.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that space was forming something in me.

She grew so many things. I distinctly remember zinnias in every color and size, marigolds, dusty miller, and the most beautiful pink peonies. There was a large rhubarb patch (I love rhubarb), large heads of cabbage, and rows of other vegetables. 

On the farm, we grew sweet corn too, and I remember the process of picking and shucking the corn, cutting it off the cob, and all the steps it took to freeze it together each year.

It was more than a garden. It was a place of beauty. A place that was tended with care. A place where life took root.

And in that moment with Jesus, I was there again.

I could feel the breeze. I could see the willow branches moving gently above me. I found myself lying in the garden near the rhubarb patch, completely at peace, completely safe.

And then, He handed me something. A simple white paper bag filled with seeds. I knew immediately what they were. These were seeds He had been collecting from my life. Every season, every place, every quiet act of obedience, every unseen moment. He had been gathering it all.

He reminded me that just like my grandma’s garden - intentionally planted, cultivated, and tended over time - my life has been doing the same thing. Even when I didn’t realize it, even when it felt small, even when it looked different than I expected. 

Some seasons looked like planting in the ground, others like tending something in a pot. But all of it mattered. All of it was growing something, and not just for me.

Because the truth is, we often don’t see the full impact of what God is growing through us. 

Just like I was shaped by my grandma’s garden without even knowing it, there are things in our lives quietly nourishing others...in hidden places, in everyday moments, in the steady faithfulness of everyday life.

And then I felt Him say something that stayed with me: I’ve been saving these for you. He placed the bag in my hands. These seeds, formed through years of walking with Him, were now mine to steward.

But they weren’t meant to stay in the bag. Seeds are safely stored there, but they don’t grow, they don’t multiply, they don’t feed anyone, they don’t become anything more than what they already are.

And I was reminded of this: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)

There is a kind of surrender required for fruitfulness, a willingness to release what feels safe...a trust that what is planted will not be lost, but multiplied.

And maybe that’s where some of us find ourselves right now. Holding seeds. Things God has formed in us over time. We know they matter, but we haven’t planted them yet. Because planting requires letting go, and letting go requires trust. 

But what if what feels like loss is actually the beginning of fruitfulness?

At the event, each woman’s place setting had a different packet of seeds, and mine was Forget-Me-Nots. It felt like such a gentle, intentional whisper from the Lord: don’t forget what I’ve done, don’t forget what I’ve grown in you, don’t forget what I’ve entrusted to you, and don’t forget to plant it.

Because what He has grown in us was meant to multiply. 

I keep thinking about that white paper bag. How full it was, how intentional it felt, just quietly gathered over time.

But seeds were never meant to stay in the bag. They’re meant to be sown.

Maybe that’s what this season is for...choosing to trust Him enough to plant what He has already grown in me, even if it feels small, even if it feels hidden, even if I’m not sure what will come of it.

Today, I want to encourage you to take some time to sit with Jesus. Let Him take you back to your “garden,” wherever that is, whatever it looks like. 

Notice what you see, what you hear, what you smell, what you feel. What details do you remember? Is there something He wants to give you? What is He saying to you about that? Just sit with Him and listen. Reflect on what He says. He will lead you. 

An encounter with Jesus changes everything.