It seems like a long time since we have had any real rain in this part of Michigan. The soil is dry, and almost powdery. I reminded myself to fill up the birdbath while I was watering the potted plants. I wandered around, doing chores this morning, feeding the chickens, gathering eggs, weeding the garden, and so on, and I remembered the seeds we planted a week ago.
Dry, dry, dry. I was so busy visiting with family over Memorial Day that I forgot to water. I was filling up the bucket, and a voice started in my mind: “It’s so hot, and it’s not even June yet. You aren’t seriously going to keep carrying water all summer are you? Every day?” And then came the roundhouse kick, designed to destroy any last resolve, “Besides, what if it’s too late, and those seeds never come up?”
This is how the process of discouragement works. Have you ever noticed that whenever you start something new, whether it’s planting seeds, starting a business, or cultivating a new friendship, that the voice of discouragement starts that terrible whisper, sabotaging the plan with an exaggerated view of the downside of things?
That voice of discouragement sounds just like my own thoughts, but it’s not really connected to reality. In my case, no, I don’t have to water by hand every day. For one thing, I can set up the sprinkler, and for another, the plants won’t need this kind of care once they are established and their roots dig deeper into the soil. I know all those things, so I’m pretty sure that voice in my head doesn’t come from me. Why would I exaggerate the downside to myself when I know it’s not accurate?
I don’t know where the voice of discouragement comes from, but I do recognize that “Eeyore” voice, chiming in whenever I get ambitious.
“It’s too hard to keep doing this, and it’s only going to get harder,” the voice whispers. “It’s better to stop now and try something else.”
The “try something else” part, which alternates with “use your resources more wisely” or something like that, is just a trick. Every time I have “used my resources more wisely” or “tried something else,” the same voice pops up once again, urging me to “be more wise,” or “consider how hard this is.”
The voice sounds like wisdom, but wisdom usually urges me to do the hard thing so that I can build my life or help someone else build. It makes me grow. The comfort-seeking voice of discouragement always makes me focus on myself, and motivates me to tear something down or put something off.
So, while I filled up the bucket, I took a long drink of cold water, and felt sorry for those poor little seeds, trying to start something new in that hot dust. My compassion (which was intensified by my enjoyment of the cold water), drove me outside again with the bucket.
I considered the words “discouragement” and “encouragement” while I was pouring water on the ground. Both of those words use the root word “courage.” “Dis-courage” is to remove courage (or dishearten) and “en-courage” is to fill with courage (or resolve!) The voice of discouragement is trying to make you believe that your efforts don’t even matter. (So you may as well just do what’s comfortable.)
Compassion is a form of love, and love drives us to good works, whether it’s for the sake of a little seed getting started, a little child who is in need of guidance, or a friend who has lost their way. And when we obey the voice of love (which is really the voice of God), we are rewarded for that obedience.
I squinted at the soil once I had poured on the water. The dust washed down in, and I saw a little green micro-leaf attached to a bright red threadlike stem: My beets are coming up!!
So yes, it’s hot and dry. But if we keep doing the right thing when we should do it, good things happen. Doing the right thing at the right time is my definition of righteousness, by the way.
(Who do I think I am, creating my own definition of righteousness?)
Well, since actions seem to be judged right or wrong depending on the moment, I feel like timing has to be part of the definition. I know some things are always right and always wrong, but many times, things get fuzzy. In the end, if God says it’s right, it is. But as our former pastor used to say, “Delayed obedience is no obedience at all.” Part of being righteous is to be apt: It’s not just doing the right thing, it’s doing the right thing at the right time.
Be righteous, and good things happen!
And even though it’s hot and dry right now, a time will come when it’s cool and moist, and if I am faithful when it’s hot and dry, I will have something to enjoy when it’s cooler. Every day, the small decisions are the ones that matter. The cumulative good works add up to something built, or a life well-lived.
The trick is to not look too far ahead, once you’ve made your decision to do something. I ask myself, “Can I fill and empty one more bucketful?” And of course, the answer is yes. And after that, if it still needs one more, I can do that, too.
But what if that “roundhouse kick” sunk in? What if deep down, I sort of believe that part about “what if those seeds never come up?” Then I remember the wise counsel of James:
“To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.” (James 4:17)
That lets me know for sure that if I know it’s good, then so does God, and he will hold me to it. If I do something that honors God, God will bless me for it, and even if those seeds don’t come up, something good will happen. Maybe a watermelon seed fell in there, and I’ll get watermelon instead of beets! Anyway, it helps me do the right thing.
Soon, it’s over and I’m cooling off inside. And outside, my beets (or beans or carrots) are growing, happy in the sun with their little roots pushing into the moist soil. If I had listened to the voice of discouragement for just one day, they would be cooked.
I can’t fix the whole world, but I can do my part today to care for those that rely on me. And that’s all God asks me to do, so I just put put my head down and do the next right thing!
I’m not perfect, and I still have a long way to go, but that thought of just doing the next right thing has helped so much to keep me on track. In the end, I’ll never be sorry for keeping a promise, or following the Lord’s inspiration, but I will be sorry for quitting. And I hope this thought helps you, too.
Be encouraged!
The Fullers Four 