Hidden, But Not Forgotten


There’s something curious about the moment a seed is sown into that cold, dark patch of soil. Something wondrous. Something unexpected.

And I think there are times when we can relate to that seed.

Because you die…

Or so it seems.

When you’re planted into the ground. Like a burial without a coffin. Under the dirt… moist soil. A little seed with so much potential, just sitting there, seemingly suffocating.

Buried. Nobody sees, nobody recognizes, nobody seems to care. In fact, nobody cares enough to panic and hurry to your rescue because -good Lord!- you are suffocating! Buried alive! Vulnerable to death!




Or so it seems.

Utter obscurity. Like Joseph in the well. Like Daniel in the den. Like the spies in Jericho hiding under the hay. Like a million little faces wondering if there is hope. Like those who have answered the Call but feel utterly lost.

Pitch black.




But right when it feels like all hope is entirely and completely run out, there comes a breaking and a growth. A moving.

And then there’s a spark of realization that this “death” is actually the beginning. The Farmer knew all along what He was doing. The Sower, the Planter…

A lot of the time, we need that obscurity. We need that seclusion. The breaking of the seed feels like the end, but it’s actually the beginning. The pushing through the thick patch of seemingly endless soil with only a slender arm of birth…

The surprising element of strength in such a thing that seems utterly vulnerable. And utterly weak! Breaking through, showing the world, that it’s not over. It wasn’t a death. But a life. Because only in that soil can we begin to grow.

Death was never the ultimate goal or end or outcome. But LIFE. So many ending are only seemingly endings. So many endings are actually beautiful beginnings!

So, yeah…
There really is something curious about a seed being sown into that cold, dark patch of soil…

Because although it appeared to be a burial, it was actually a moment of conception. A work of Life Himself.

I suppose we can simply soak up what we need from this moist patch of dirt. In the seasons of testing and preparation…

Because as weak and as lost as we may feel, there is still a hope. A still and silent strength inside. And then we know that the Farmer has not abandoned us at all.

We may be hidden, but we are not forgotten.

He has only begun His work.

1 thought on “Hidden, But Not Forgotten”

  1. Excellent word Bernadine! And we are not alone -those that wait, those that are buried, those that feel as though they are dying- suffocating. The day will come when He is ready to display His splendor and life will burst forth and what a glorious day it will be. That small arm of life bursting forth to show itself alive- to give meaning to all the hiddenness- the seeming forgottenness- the darkness. The work of the Potter now on display!!! What a glorious day!


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