“I will be the wind that spreads your seeds to others that they may grow.”
So says my journal and my last blog post. I feel like God has been whispering variations of this thought to me all week. This was accented when in the course of my week I came across a little trio of out of place red corn kernels. I found myself drawn to them, and I decided to just roll with it.
Before we continue, I feel like this is an aside worth mentioning. I think Bible College might have… broken the way I used to interact with God to some degree. At Bible College, they teach us hermaneutics. The idea that the proper method of reading the Bible involves understanding the context for who the message was originally intended, as well as the historical context. Once you know those things, you can then begin figuring out what the truth of the scripture is really saying and how it applies to your life. This is very fair and logical and I think, certainly a much more consistent means of finding the Truth in any given scripture.
When I was young, I could see the fingerprints of God in almost anything. Any happenstance event, any detail I happened to notice, it was like the entire world was a coded message; a love letter from God to me. I feel like I lost that along the way. In a lot of Christian circles, “Relativism” is a dirty word. And all of those codes I used to read were almost exclusively relative because it was something weird that I was seeing and that I was applying context to.
I think I took the hermaneutics lesson too far. I’ve shifted from experiencing God in my limited, very context specific way to searching for God’s absolutes. I guess the simplest way to put it is that I felt like in order to hear something from God, there had to be a method to it. It had to be verifiable. I stopped being a participant in favor of being a scientist.
But, the thing is, God is big. So much bigger than either of us could comprehend. He can speak to us through anything. At any time. We just have to be willing to look and listen. And I feel like that’s what these seeds are. A secret code that God laid in front of me and has asked me to figure out.
Tonight, Leah is at work and I have the house to myself. I decided to make some use of my solitude, and set up a little “nest” on our bed. I turned the overhead light off, turned on a lamp and laid down on my stomach with my journal, a pen, and an mp3 player set to only play UNKLE. (Arguably, the best journaling music ever created.) I opened my journal and discovered that the book’s binding had held the seeds right where I left them.
I took a few moments and closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I imagined hands reaching down and peeling off my soul’s shirt; soiled by the day’s chaos and my worries and concerns. The hands came back with a fresh garment and pulled it down over my head. It still smelled of the laundry and was warm from the dryer. When I felt ready, I told God I was listening.
I stared at the seeds for a long time. Examined them. Felt them between my fingers. I picked up my pen and started writing a basic description: Red. Glossy. There was a beat, and I felt an idea begin to form. “Reactive drops of potential. Put them in the right place and they know exactly what to do. One seed holds all the information of the seeds that came before it and all that will come after.”
My thoughts slowed down and I thought on those things for a while. I wrote “From This:” and drew a picture of one of the seeds… Then drew a giant stalk of corn. “This.”
The warmth of the bed, the gentle breeze of the fan, they rhythmic strokes of my pen began having an effect on me. My eyelids grew heavy, but my mind was still circling the seeds, looking for the key, the meaning. I felt myself sliding deeper and deeper, the world getting further away. The ethereal music in my ears lulling me to let go completely– but I didn’t. One small corner of my brain was still glowing with firing synapses, even as the rest grew dim.
Suddenly my eyes snapped open as my pen began to move.
Just hang on, little seed.
Your time is coming.
You will become
What you were always meant to be.
And just like that, I felt like I had gotten whatever I was supposed to get out of those little seeds.