I never had much interest in gardening until I got my own. I mean, I liked farmers markets and fresh produce and all that, but it wasn't until I had a garden of my own and ate what my own hands had tended that I got the bug. My wife had the bug before me. She convinced me to take dirt from Iowa to Tennessee to fill up 5-gallon buckets and grow tomatoes on the patio of our apartment, but I still wasn't that into it.
After we bought a house (we actually bought the yard and the house came with it), we started our very own garden. No more bucket tomatoes, no more gardening on someone else's land. Then a couple months into it this summer, it started to hit me. All the metaphors and parables that Jesus told would come to life as I'd pull the rocks out of the soil and weed the rows. I'd marvel as the tiny seeds that we put in the ground grew into patches of lettuce, tomato and pepper plants. The intricate designs of the leaves, blossoms and fruit weren't random; that seed had all the information in it, ready to go. All it needed was dirt, water, air and light... and somebody to make sure those weren't stolen.
I'm an intercessory missionary at the International House of Prayer in Kansas City. Part of what that means is that I sit in the prayer room 24 hours a week praying, reading my Bible, and listening to God. But where I really hear God the most is in the garden. He's made His word accessible for peasants with 4th grade educations, and knew that those people would have to eat, and thus grow some food. So many pictures in the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation are made to be understood from an agricultural mindset.
We were made to encounter God in a garden. He planted it and put us there for a reason. If we never get our hands dirty, there are things we'll never know.
