Evidence of the Unseen

Seeing those little green tips emerge from the ground thrills me every spring. Here in my garden, it’s the signal that Daffodils or Hostas are coming to life. They are welcome harbingers, issuing forth that anticipatory sign that the season is changing and warmer weather is really returning.

This year the daffodil tips broke ground the week of Christmas, and began blooming the first week in March. I could see them from the breakfast room window. You can probably imagine what I did most every day during that 10-week period. Yes, I would peek out the window to check on them, wondering how they would manage in the cold, the ice, and the seemingly unending periods of rain. I would imagine how they were going to look in bloom.

Now the Hostas, are emerging, and again, I’m enchanted.

Part of my fascination with them is that one day I seeing nothing, and the next day there’s something mysteriously coming forth, something fresh — a verdant green that contrasts with the faded mulch and dried dead leaves. While I was unaware, in the hard, cold, dark earth, plenty was going on, a glorious work. The emerging shoots are evidence of that unseen process.

Let me pause to ask – have you ever cut open a daffodil or tulip bulb and looked inside? If not, get an onion or garlic clove, which are similar to flower bulbs, and cut one from top to bottom. Flower bulbs also have those white outer layers seen in the onion or garlic and the green shoot you see in the middle when it’s aged a bit. The white outer layers are filled with food the new plant will need to grow. That little greenish shoot in the center is the flower and leaves, already formed, that will emerge from the ground. Everything for the blooming season is already developed and stored in the bulb, flowers and all!

After they bloom each year, the remaining greenery uses photosynthesis to build up the energy stores that will enable them to bloom the following year. When the foliage turns to yellow and brown, the energy moves down into the bulb. As they prepare for a time of dormancy in the winter, new bulbs are produced and they grow roots to take in water. As the temperature drops and the days grow shorter, the bulbs know it’s time to rest. Hormones are produced that tell them when to start growing again, and they use the stored energy to push the leaves and flowers up through the ground. Although Hostas aren’t true bulbs, they too have that period of dormancy and save energy in their crown for the next growing season.

I’m stunned by the magnificence of the biological process. I’m drawn to worship as it speaks to me of the One who has designed it all. Yet there’s more here to discern than the biological process; there are some treasures to mine, and in the darkest part of my year, these fresh green shoots are just the visual I need.

They exhibit for me that God is at work even when I can’t see it. When I feel I’m in a dark time, there is a work taking place. Like in a bulb, the nature of the work in my heart requires it be unseen, but with time His handiwork becomes evident. Moreover, I cannot look to external circumstances and appearances to gauge reality. I am encouraged, in faith, to focus my thoughts on God, His nature and His promises, and believe on Him as my only reliable resource for truth. Faith is “… the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1).”

The emerging tips also stir feelings of hope. They give me reason to expect the growth and beauty that will follow. My spirits are lifted as they prompt me to look forward with anticipation of what is to come. These hints of what’s ahead whisper to me of our ultimate hope in Christ. It is a hope that will not disappoint (Romans 5:5), for through Christ’s resurrection we obtain an inheritance that’s incorruptible, reserved in heaven, and kept by the power of God through faith (I Peter 1:3-5).

Their emergence from the ground makes me wonder how they were able to push up through the soil and layers of mulch, why they came up so fresh and clean and green after pushing through dirt, and why they don’t freeze. I notice that sometimes a cluster of tips will lift a clump of packed mulch or a single tip may slice through a dead leaf as it grows. In all of this, they inspire me to persevere and rely on God for strength. He provides all they need to thrive. As my heavenly Father I trust He will do the same for me (2 Peter 1:3).

“O Lord Your lovingkindness is so abundant towards us! These visuals you provide in nature are a means to rehearse your truth and reflect on Your character, to meditate on Your promises and lean into Your presence. Build in us a faith that pleases You and provides the hope of this inheritance. Thank You for Your mercy and for providing all we need for life and godliness.”

I dedicate this post to the memory of a dear follower of Tarry There who passed into the loving arms of Christ since my last post. Donna loved Jesus and like me, enjoyed His presence in the garden. I’ve been told she had many Hostas in her garden! I know her faith has become sight and look forward to conversations with her in the gardens of the new earth.