God’s Making of Me

“So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.” 1 Corinthians 3:7-9

Lately, there is a part of me that feels as though I’ve run out of things to say or write. One on one I can be a talker, but in the case of three or more, I will struggle to get in a word. There have been seasons of my life where I was silent and needed to be heard. That started me blogging. There have been seasons of my life where I started to talk over others just to get to speak as I was learning my voice.

This is a new season, wherein I am going back to being a little quieter and slower to speak or write. This may not sound quite right, but I’ve determined I don’t really have much to say. That is to say that the older I am, the less wisdom I seem to have to offer, the more aware I am of how little I actually know, and the more grounded I am in simply being okay with where I am in that. My insides are stiller.

To be sure, I do have a sense of having more wisdom, the kind that comes with age. But it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I will take out of the box, wear, show it off, and then put back in the box like a treasure. It is the kind that I carry in my purse with me at all times, and if the time is right I will use it. A little like an analogy I created while attempting to be funny recently.

While doing an activity, I saw someone doing something odd. Much later, I shared this thing with my friend. She wanted to know why I had kept to myself during that time instead of teasing the person with it. I said it was gold. You find it. You keep it to yourself until the timing is right, and then take it out and share it when you need it. Of course, I said this in good humor. But that’s a little how I see wisdom these days. I have a little, but I’m not sure when I will use it or need it.

I’m a slow processor, and even now, a month after leaving for Uganda and two weeks after returning, I’m not quite sure how to verbalize what I’ve learned. My friend asked me, “What was the most impactful thing about being there?” I am still rendered mute. Uganda was a treasure. I think I am still learning things from it. Some deep and meaningful and some less so, like how I’m still learning about my own identity. I guess maybe I’m not sure what is mine to keep and what is to be shared, whereas I used to share it all.

About a month before I left, I asked a question about how to love on my Facebook feed. I don’t remember my verbiage. It was a complex question involving how to love the person who doesn’t believe the right thing even though they may be a Christian and not open to truth giving. Yesterday, two months later, the answer seemed to come to me as I was reflecting on a conversation from the day before. I wanted to write about that here, but the words or the ability to place words together to make someone else understand what I learned about love seems to have left the building.

As someone who once aspired to be a serious writer, this is a little worrisome. Yet, I shared the verse at the top of the post, because really all of this is about my own maturity and the way God is caring for me as His little seed. He designed me to be a certain type of being. The seed that I am may not look like the seed that my friends and neighbors are. God is my Gardener, and the way He gardens me also helps me grow into maturity. He is the Master Planner, and He has designed who will cross my path to water me. He has determined who needs the seeds my life will drop. He has determined which forms of adversity He will allow to enter the garden where I grow, which shapes me. Ultimately, God is growing me, building me, forming me into a masterpiece. If that includes depth of writing or not, it’ll all be okay, part of the Masterplan.