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.