“The Soil of Sorrow, The Seeds of Faith”
“Unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3)
Through my grief, I have discovered that faith is not a flash of certainty, but a slow unfolding. It is unveiled through life being lived and moments of heartbreak. When things are uprooted in the quiet moments of your suffering you can reach through your pain toward the Light that never leaves. Faith, after all, is not a single step, but the journey itself. It’s worn by sorrow and watered by the tears that are shed.
I have lost two sons, Leo and Trent, and with them, I guess parts of myself I thought would never grow again. The soil of my soul felt dry and cracked, and the absence of my boys left me feeling broken under the endless sky.
But even then, as my heart continues to weep, I find God kneeling in the dirt beside me whispering, “There is still life to be lived.” This is not meant to imply a denial of my pain, but rather, His divine presence that provides comfort through it. Tending to my sorrow while He nurtures my soil for new growth.
Most new beginnings are not easy. They don’t happen without some sort of pain and the discomfort of letting go of something. It is the holy ache of releasing what we cannot keep, so God can grow in us what we never imagined could live again. For He sees what we cannot see and knows what we do not know.
Faith is not about passing a test or getting it all right. It’s more like a field, sometimes overgrown and other times filled with a bountiful crop. The Master Gardener will never cease His work. He is faithful. He has placed your heart in the field and cultivated it with His love. He kneels down beside you, turning mourning into movement and grief into dancing.
Yet, transformation doesn’t come quickly, it pushes through like a tender shoot breaking through the hardness of sorrow. It comes when we are still and dare to believe He can make everything bloom from the ashes.
So today, ask yourself,
What tears must be given room to fall? What seeds can I plant in hopes of a new harvest?
You are not alone in your uncertainty and pain. Let Him tend to the soil of your heart. Let Him plant peace where pain once lived. And believe that even in the wake of loss, new life is still possible. The journey is slow, but the harvest itself will be worth the wait.
