Knowing God - Tarry There

Three Lessons from the Field

Posted on February 23, 20218 Comments

I grew up on a small farm in South Carolina, and there were fields on three sides of our house. Truly the fourth side, our front yard, was pretty much a field as well; it was just cared for with a lawn mower instead of a tractor.

As kids we worked in those fields way too often for our taste. Every spring we set out plants, and then hoed the rows and picked vegetables all summer. The fields were also our playground. We built play houses with the green bean stakes, collected mud to make pottery, sleuthed animal tracks (and their droppings), and had dirt clod fights with plywood shields that my older brother made.

The fields became a byway of sorts. We tromped through them to get to other places of adventure, usually the woods, but also Eleazer’s little store or my grandparents’ house. My Aunt Jean lived with my grandparents and was a nurserywoman, so her fields were dedicated to shrubbery and flowers. I remember even before I started school, I would slip down the path to be with her. We would collect dirt from the woods and sift it through wooden frames with wire mesh bottoms to filter out roots and hard fragments. As time passed, her field closest to our house contained rows of boxwood where we played hide and seek with our cousins.

All kinds of childhood memories took place in a field, so when I read these words in 1 Corinthians, I stopped and reread them several times. In the middle of the ninth verse of Chapter 3, I read, “You are God’s field.”

I don’t remember ever reading that before.

“You are God’s field… ” (1 Corinthians 3:9). I am God’s field! I found “field” can also be translated as garden or vineyard.

“O Lord, these are exciting words for me! I know what happens in fields and gardens! You have immersed me in gardening adventures for years and given me a square foot garden of my own for over three decades, so my experiences cry out to me of the riches to be discovered in this metaphor. Let’s stay with this verse awhile. As I tarry there, walk with me in the furrows and delight me with Your truth.”

The first lesson is that “You are God’s garden,” implies possession. It says to me that I am His! This is true in the sense that I was created by God (Psalm 100:3), my body fashioned and knit together by His hands (Psalm 119:73, 139:13). It’s also true in that through repentance and faith in Him, Christ has redeemed me, forgiven my sin, and has adopted me into His family (Ephesians 1:5-7).

And second, since I am God’s garden, this indicates that He is my Gardener! (I do remember reading that before, in John 15:1).

This speaks to me in a deep place as I recall what gardeners do. I picture my mom pouring over seed catalogs and my dad coming home with tomato plants he had purchased. I can envision him on his tractor pulling the disc harrow topped with cement blocks so it will cut deep into the ground. I remember us setting out many rows of tomato plants and watching little beans and okra and corn seedlings emerge from the ground. I hear the sound of Aunt Jean’s sprinklers watering huge areas. Recalling the earthy fragrance and humid warmth of her greenhouse, I retrace how cuttings were rooted, misted, and nurtured in trays before they were potted. I see my own hands as they wage war against the attack of beetles that would devour my green beans. And, gracious, the delight in the gardens and the boasting? From start to finish it never ended!

God has a plan for me just as my parents did for their fields. He cultivates and waters (John 4:13-14; Isaiah 55:1, 58:11), just as I saw our family do. With tender care He nurtures and trains me. As Aunt Jean used her pruning shears, He prunes as needed to bring about my growth (John 15:2). As I’ve labored to do in my own garden, He protects me and provides for me, doing all that’s necessary for me to be fruitful. Like all gardeners I’ve observed, He takes delight all along the way (Psalm 18:19, 35:27, Jeremiah 32:41).

The third lesson? I discovered some comforting reassurances in this metaphor of God’s field. Since gardens require cultivation to eventually produce according to a gardener’s plan, I grasp that this is very true of me too. I’m unable to take root, mature, or be fruitful by myself — I need the Gardener to foster my growth. Not only that, He doesn’t expect me grow by my own meager effort (John 15:5). He knows I need cultivation. He will nurture and tend, and lovingly provide all I need as I abide in Him (John 15:7-8).

I’ve seen too that both plants and gardens have phases when they seem unproductive, even unpleasing to the eye. Every phase is an important step in reaching maturity, which takes time. Furthermore, each stage is assigned its own purpose and place in time. This reassures me as I experience these seasons. I know they aren’t unprofitable, they aren’t inappropriate, nor are they useless (Romans 8:28). Knowing my Gardener, I can embrace these seasons as appointed and necessary times. They are valuable in His sight!

“Thank You my Heavenly Gardener for Your truth and these lessons from Your fields. I am comforted knowing that my cultivation is in Your hand, all my times are in Your hand (Psalm 31:14-15), and You delight in the stages of my development (Psalm 147:11). I am blessed at a deeper level in knowing You in this new way. It helps me to receive Your tender care, even the pruning away of striving and notions of self-reliance, that I may rest more quietly in Your timing and appointed seasons. As I share these lessons from the field, I pray my readers will also know You in a new way and receive Your blessings and comfort.”

The beautiful vegetable garden photo in this post was taken by a new friend and used with her permission. She and her husband also let me roam their farm and take photos for this post. The field in the feature photo, all the grapevines, and the farm equipment were taken there. I’m grateful for their hospitality and the delight of sharing old memories with new friends.

The Invitation

Posted on December 23, 20204 Comments

This has definitely been a year for trying new things. Learning how to launch and write this blog has been my primary new thing. Another has been learning about and experimenting with macro photography. Macro is a form of photography that gets very close-up images of a small subject or small parts of the subject. Often the photo is so close that observers may not know what was actually photographed since the details revealed aren’t those normally seen. I’m enamored with these up-close images. I find the details are so dramatic, they are informative, and they’re always wonder inducing! Here’s a little gallery of some of my favorites.

Playing with macro is how I discovered the gorgeous details of poinsettia flowers. They are beautiful plants. I confess when they show up for the Christmas season, my perspective has been influenced by my inability over the years to keep them looking nice for very long. But studying them up-close has transformed how I view them.

All the pretty red display that we normally think of as the flower are really specialized leaves, called bracts. They put on a marvelous display! They’re the first thing we see, right? It’s these bracts that get the attention of the pollinators too, calling out, “Hey, come over and take a look!” They offer up an invitation to come to the flower.

Drawing closer, down in the center of the bracts, the real flowers are clustered in the “bull’s eye” of the display. They are contained in little green structures called cyathia.

To me they look like little bouquets bursting forth, sporting red stems and yellowish pollen. The most striking feature though are the little goblets or cup-like structures. These cups contain nectar, the real desire of all the pollinators. Notice they start out looking like little lips and then swell to open into urn-shaped cups. Though tiny, the cups are relatively quite large compared to the flowers in the cyathia. They are full to the brim, some overflowing! Pollinators are invited to the cups, a source of life and sustenance for them.

Focusing on those brimming full cups of nectar brought to mind another cup, the one that “runneth over,” in Psalm 23.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Psalm 23:5

What a rich and profoundly satisfying expression. It speaks of all sorts of blessing. The metaphor conveys not only God’s protection, favor, and provision, but also His intimate presence, and His delight in our company. Can you picture this – an abundant feast prepared by the God of all creation who then showers us with His favor and presence, all while our enemies look on? His invitation is to abundant life, and is expressed throughout Scripture.

For example, in Revelation, we read that Jesus stands at the door and knocks. For anyone who hears His voice and opens the door, what will he do? He says in Revelation 3:20, “I will come in to him and dine with him and he with Me.”

Or in these beautiful verses from Isaiah we read,

“Come everyone who thirsts, come to the waters. And he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, And your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, And delight yourselves in rich food.
Incline your ear, and come to me; Hear that your soul may live; And I will make you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.”
Isaiah 55:1-3

God implores us to incline our ears and hear the words of invitation. Hear, that our souls may live! “Come!”

We read Christ’s words in John 7:37. “On the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.’” My study Bible says this about the three action verbs in this verse — thirst, come, and drink.

“These three words summarize the gospel invitation. A recognition of need leads to an approach to the source of provision, followed by receiving what is needed.”
John MacArthur

I’m thankful for this invitation. It is the Lord’s grand invitation, the good news of God’s plan put in place before time began. Jesus stated it simply, yet His invitation is so profound it will be studied and wondered at forever. In concert with the invitation to receive eternal life, I’ve discovered it’s also His invitation to an abundant daily life.

“Carole Lynn no matter your need. In your loneliness today, in your weakness and helplessness, in your striving, in your longings and desires, in your grief, pain, or failure, in battling against shame and fear, in your wandering from Me, in your living and in your dying, come. Come close. I am with you, I am your strength, I am your satisfaction, I am your provision, I am your comfort and joy, I am your deliverer, I am your shield and defense, I am your helper, I am your peace, I am your way, I am your life. I am your cup. I am.”

His word overflows with these truths. It is indeed an everyday gospel to which I must return over and over as a bee would to nectar. It is overflowing, life-giving, and life sustaining.*

“Thank You Father for Your invitation that calls out to us throughout Your Word. You say listen – oh, give ears to hear. You say come — give willing hearts. You say receive – give us faith over fear and repentance instead of rebellion. Let us learn to see our need as Your invitation to draw near, that our souls may delight in Your abundance. May we experience You as our most satisfying treasure in the day to day of our journey on earth.”

*My I am verses: Isaiah 41:10; Psalm 138:3; Psalm 63:3-5; 2 Corinthians 9:8; Matthew 5:4; Psalm 16:11; Colossians 1:13-14; Psalm 18:1-3; Psalm 121:1-2; Psalm 55:18; John 14:6; Psalm 73:24-26.

As usual, there was so much more I wanted to say. If you are interested in more content on this theme of the cup for your own meditation or to share with your small group, please reach out to me using the Contact Me form.

If you, like me, need help in caring for your poinsettia, try this page at The Spruce for their good advice.

Autumn Meditation

Posted on October 5, 20203 Comments

As the season has changed to fall, we’ve experienced shorter days, some cooler temperatures, and a good drenching of rain. As it poured, I peered through the storm door several times to search for hints of color or any visuals that autumn had arrived, but there were none. After the rainy days, we ventured out for some birding at Latta Plantation Nature Preserve. The only leaves showing fall color were a couple of red-tinged dogwood trees. But there were other signs of fall I savored, especially the aroma. Likely from all the grasses and wildflowers, it smelled like fall! It also sounded like fall. The insects were buzzing rhythmically, and the birds were conversant and darting about in small flocks. The lighting was lazy and the atmosphere seemed different. We walked the Hill Trail and lingered in different spots, listening.

For me, fall usually starts out as a rude interruption. With sadness I remember the summer warmth and all the outdoor fun, our backyard gatherings, my garden, the flowers, our beach trips, and the long hours of sunlight. I peer into the distance, see the harshness of winter is coming, and consider the passing of time and my own preparedness for what may come. On this day I wanted to move past the bump and embrace the season! In this beautiful setting I began to relax, and that fall feeling I had been looking for came, peacefully descending on me in a spirit of trust.

There on the hill, listening for the call of birds and hearing the rustle of the tall grasses, I thought of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem, “The Autumn.” It begins this way:

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.

Wow — I do like this opening stanza! I like her imperative to “Go.” Browning instructs us to take our lesson on a hill, where we just sit. We are to look around, taking it in, being still. I appreciate too the way she conveys what she hears. The woods and the waters “hymn an autumn sound.” She invites us to hear them singing a song of praise. Then she addresses our heart, our musing heart. Muse means to reflect deeply on a subject, so she’s acknowledging our need to meditate. The poem continues:

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Yes! Browning takes us back to the place we’ve been during the summer and says to tarry there again. She acknowledges we often remember and compare our experience now with what we had before. Reading through the remaining stanzas, Browning compares the changes in the wind and woods as symbolic of the transitions in our lives, and gives us a way to move on. (I hope you’ll hang on for the end.)

Oh! Like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill —
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.

Here in the last stanza Browning tells us once we’ve acknowledged those things that grieve us in life’s transitions, we can now change our focus. She tells us to “look out.” We’re exhorted to redirect our focus over the valleys and hills to the sky that encircles. The sky’s still there just as it was before! The scathe of the season, the harshness we see and feel, that sense of being out of control — Heaven is still over all!

Oh reader, God is still with us! In these seemingly desolate times as we grieve so many changes and long for what was, let us lift our eyes to Heaven’s throne. For “The Lord has established His throne in the Heavens, and His kingdom rules over all (Psalm 103:19).” There is nothing He does not rule over! There is no time He does not rule over (Psalm 31:15). Nations and kings are in His hands (Psalm 47:8-9). He is almighty (Deuteronomy 10:17), and nothing is difficult for Him (Jeremiah 32:27). The Lord is able to deliver (2 Kings 17:39) and preserves all who love Him (John 10:29). He is able to do exceedingly abundantly more than we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20).

“Oh Lord, we lift our eyes to the hills, but our help comes from You, maker of Heaven and earth. You will not allow our foot to slip, for You are our keeper; You preserve our going out and coming in – even our souls! Close the door of our minds to questions about Your sovereignty or Your good and kind intentions. For You are righteous in all Your ways and gracious in all Your works. You are trustworthy, performing all that You have promised. Keep us O Lord, I pray.”*

If you are on this journey of faith with the One true God, go, sit again where you’ve been with Him before. Meditate on His promises and seek Him. Fan the flame of your hope (Psalm 62:5). He does restore our souls (Psalm 23:3)! With each reminder of who He is, be thrilled all over again. Be encouraged that he has enabled you to persevere. Delight in who He wants to be for you in this season. Tell about Him and all His wonders (Psalm 9:1-2)!

This prayer includes verses from Psalm 121 and 145. Other Psalms I’ve found very helpful in times of transition are Psalm 103 and 116. In each of these the Psalmist is speaking to his own soul. He defeats discouragement and unbelief by remembering the truth about God’s nature and His kind intentions.
I’ve published a new page called Interesting Finds! It contains a collection of recent discoveries that caught my eye and brought fresh joy in God’s creativity. Enjoy browsing! The page can be found on the menu dropdown, so as you come back to the site, take a look for new finds.

His Answer Was a Garden

Posted on September 2, 2020

Around 25 years ago, I saw a counselor on staff at our church for a while. I think back on it as a sweet season. Judy’s joy in the Lord and her love for Him were manifested in the way that Scripture was woven into the living and breathing of her daily life. She was eager to be fed and nourished by it, and I was attracted to this devotion and wanted to emulate her! I still recall particular verses we discussed that helped me learn not to look elsewhere for help, but to go to the Lord first, trust Him, and watch Him work (Isaiah 50:10-11, 31:1).

What I remember most from our visits, though, was a kind action on her part that spoke to my heart and impacted all our visits thereafter. I was usually her first appointment of the day and we met in a large, chilly room with cinder block walls. One morning as I came in and sat down (infant in tow) I noticed immediately that the space felt comfortable, maybe even toasty! I realized she had placed a space heater near my chair.

Judy had noticed how cold-natured I am, had procured a heater, and had come in early to warm up my space. I felt deeply touched by this simple act. This may be because, well … if you’re cold natured like me, you’ve probably discovered people enjoy poking fun at you about it. She had taken what others might find as opportunity for jest and used it instead as an occasion to render compassionate service.

My heart interpreted it to mean she knew me well, she knew what would make a difference in my time with her, and she cared enough to act on it. I liked being known! I liked that she prepared a place for me! I felt loved and affirmed. It was a tender act, evoking a tender response. Her kindness also favorably impacted my counseling sessions because it issued in a deeper level of trust that opened the door for me to be more transparent.

My heart experienced this same tender response a few weeks ago; it was when I happened across Genesis 2:8.

And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there he put the man whom He had formed.
Genesis 2:8

I thought, “Oh Lord, you knew us, your handiwork, before you formed us. In Your lovingkindness you prepared a special place for us, curated to meet all our needs; You planted it yourself!”

I like that Scripture reveals “the Lord God” planted it. Knowing what’s involved with planting a garden, I tried to imagine what that process would look like—the timing, specifics, and His intent in the design. What sort of environment would man need to thrive? In what kind of dwelling place could they learn all He had for them? In what setting would they come to know the Lord as they lingered with Him and experienced His goodness? Where would they best gain knowledge of His plan for them and understand their roles and responsibilities?

God’s answer was a garden. The Lord prepared a habitation with all they needed; the perfect dwelling place, ordained to manifest His love. It was very good. (Genesis 1:31)

The garden was in a particular geographical location: Eden, in the east. A river flowed out of Eden to water it (Genesis 2:8, 10). God provided both beauty and nourishment in His garden. He made every tree grow that is pleasant to the sight and good for food (Genesis 2:9).

The garden provided work for man; he was to tend and keep it (Genesis 2:15).

It was a place for man to learn to reason and discern. The Lord brought the animals and birds to Adam to see what he would call them. Whatever Adam called each living creature, that became its name (Gen. 2:19).

It was the environment where the first couple experienced God’s presence. He was there with them. He instructed them and gave them purpose (Genesis 1:28, 2:17).

“I’m grateful for Your word, Lord, that reveals to us who You are and how You made ready for us. Thank You that this whole realm of nature still speaks of You. No wonder we are drawn to the therapeutic benefits of a hike or a stroll through a garden! They are still physical and tangible places where we can see and smell, hear, touch, and taste of Your glory. And in gardens, we can still commune with You, receive guidance from You, and experience Your presence. I wonder at nature’s indescribable beauty, remarkable details, and consider who You are—a God who knows us and loves us, and who has perfectly prepared and provided for us.”