She sat frozen as the image flashed up on the wall, and the preacher’s words came.
‘A seed, so small and seemingly insignificant, has incredible potential.’
Hairs stood on end as a chill ran right through her, from the crown of her head, then out through her toes.
All that potential encased in something so tiny. All that genetic material tucked away in something that you’d brush off the back of your hand without a thought. All that potential life and growth and fruit.
How often had she brushed herself off, seen herself as insignificant?
The thing is, she’s not the seed. She’s the soil. The power is in the seed, but only when it’s planted in soil well cultivated, well-watered, free of thorns and stones.
That potential is in me she thought, marvelling in the miracle of the gospel. God has planted his Spirit in me.
When she looks at a plant, she doesn’t notice the soil, or even think about it. She looks at the delicate petals of a flower, or the fruit, or the graceful curve of the leaves, or the great strength of a tree trunk. Only what is above, only what is seen.
But it’s about the unseen. About the nutrients she’s putting into her life, when no one is looking. For how can this seed, with all that potential, live and bear fruit when its soil is all dried up, blowing away in the wind?
If she changes the recipe, changes those ingredients in the soil of her life, removes the rocks and thorns, cultivates the hard places, her potential will be realized. The seed in her, that power packed seed, will grow, bear fruit, show beauty, grace and strength. That seed gives her significance. That seed is calling her. She hears it. She receives it and works to release its potential.