Daily deluges have kept the soil in the garden heavy, wet
and cloying. The plants might be longing for the heat of a spring sun, but
planted in the rich soil of the garden, they are not thirsty.
But in the individual plastic seed trays, the bedding plants
I bought from the shop languish. There the earth is dry as dust, despite the
tray sitting out under the same grey skies and receiving the same dose of rain.
Worshiping at church, voices joining in love and praise of
our Saviour, waters my spirit and restores my soul. It is like resting in a
rich garden. As our hearts converge and our minds agree in worship, we are like
the plants in the soil, whose roots go deep.
I know I can be a believer whether or not I go to church,
but if I stayed home, I think I might grow like those bedding plants, separated
and hemmed in by plastic sides and bases, limited and isolated from being able
to stretch my faith deeper, refreshing myself in the shared aquifer of love for
God.
May the rain of heaven’s love fall gently on us all today,
restoring us and enabling us each to blossom with the gifts God has given us.
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