On Fertile Ground

 PROOF TEXTING: taking isolated quotes and establishing a position that may not be the author’s original intent.

As a long-time student of the Bible, I try very hard not to do this. When I feel like God is speaking directly to me through scripture (which I do, occasionally), I hold that message lightly, just in case it turns out I’m reading my own desires into the words or something. I’m well aware of the dangers of looking for “hidden messages” in scripture or applying a passage to a personal situation where it may not apply.

Nevertheless . . .

I find it astonishing how often Bible verses have popped up out of nowhere and been specific (sometimes word for word) answers to questions I was having or prayers I’d been praying – especially during the most trying and difficult times of my life.

In particular, God used a certain motif to communicate with me throughout the struggles I was having with my marriage: the image of wasteland becoming fertile ground. Over and over and over again, Bible passages would pop up in studies, sermons, classes . . . even in the Bible app on my phone. All with the same picture of dead, empty, dry land being made into a place of abundant growth. And again, almost always during moments when I was specifically needing guidance or reassurance in that area.

If you read my very first post, you know the story of my coming up with the name of this blog. (And if you didn’t, you can read it here.) However, I only told part of the story in that post.

When Sunday School was done that morning and I was waiting for online church to start, I decided to Google “Gennesaret”, because I’d never heard of this place before. And the internet informed me that it was a town halfway between Capernaum and Magdala, but that the name also referred to a larger region – the Plain of Gennesaret. And Luke once referred to the Sea of Galilee as the lake of Gennesaret. In the passage we were studying in Mark, the town is specifically mentioned as a place where Jesus healed people. That felt significant.

But there was one detail about this area that leaped off my computer screen with every link I clicked. Gennesaret is an area known for its beauty, specifically for its . . . fertility.

This new place where God has put me is fertile ground.

Well . . . how about that.

Many of those passages God sent me over the years came from Isaiah, like this one from chapter 32: “. . . till the Spirit is poured on us from on high, and the desert becomes a fertile field, and the fertile field seems like a forest.”

Seems like a forest. Not just simply fertile land . . . a FOREST.  I’ve hung onto that promise for a long time, hoping it really was a promise. Because it felt like a promise. I’ve held it with an open hand, though. It’s been a long, long wait; I’ve been afraid of disappointment.

But when I visited family a few weeks ago, my brother-in-law told me that I was happiest he had seen me in years and years. And I had to finally admit it to myself.

He’s right. I’m happy. I’m on fertile ground. And I’m savoring each day as I watch my forest grow.