Waiting With God in the Asparagus Season

I’m an avid gardener, so this is peak season in the Midwest for folks like me. This is our Olympics, our Super Bowl. The tiny seeds and seedlings that carried so much hope and promise just months ago are now abounding with life. I could easily spend every hour of the day and every ounce of my energy staking up vines and pulling out weeds, making sure I harvest every pea, bean, and pepper before they give up on me, splitting open to release their seeds into the soil for next year.

In my garden I learn so much from the Creator about hoping and waiting—and hard, hard work with delightful rewards. When I think about the life cycle of my plants—new life, abundant life and death—my mind slowly returns to God and His creative, redemptive plan for us.

Recently my mind has been on asparagus. Yes, seriously. Growing asparagus teaches me about waiting, on an entirely different timeline.

Years ago, I ordered asparagus roots to plant in my garden. I carefully packed them into the dirt … and then waited. All that season I waited, and the next year I waited still more. Even when the lovely green shoots peeked out of the ground, I sat by and let them grow to the sky without harvesting. I waited like that for nearly three years.

The thing with asparagus is that you can’t harvest them right away, even when they look ready. Not the year you plant and not the year after that. Only on the second full year can you carefully take a few shoots here and there. Only on the third year can you harvest all that your heart desires (if your heart desires asparagus at all, that is).

I wanted my own asparagus bed for decades. But knowing that my investment would carry a three-year delay before the first taste of reward slowed me down. That’s a long wait to stare down. I considered how many things in my life could change from when the roots went in the ground to when my skillet sizzled with butter and fresh stalks of green deliciousness. Would I still be living in my home? Would someone else benefit from all my work instead?

These days I often think of these beloved, long worked-for and long-awaited plants. It seems as though we’re in an asparagus season in our lives right now. We keep planting seeds into our families, our lives, and our communities; but there’s mostly waiting and more waiting. A long tunnel of unknowns, a million small deaths before any light at the end. We’d prefer a tomato plant, warm and juicy after just a month or two in the ground or, better yet, a package off the shelves, shiny and new and on demand.

I’m comforted when I remember that God’s plan is long, longer than asparagus planting even. Abraham was called to be a blessing to all nations thousands of years ago; Jesus was born thousands of years after him … yet still two thousand years before me. The creation and redemption that God is forming from our daily acts of faithful labor may not be ready for harvest this year, or next year, or even the next. The seeds we plant may be harvested by someone after we’ve long passed. But we keep our eyes on Jesus.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

Where are you investing these days and waiting? Where have you seen harvest, and where are you trusting God for something far off? Tell us about it. We would love to share in your story.