A seed forms from a flowering blossom. It falls to the ground completely alone, free and seemingly left to its own devices. As it basks in the sun it revels in freedom. It feels self reliant, no longer dependent upon the flower which was once its lifeline.
As time passes the seed tires of freedom. It feels bored and longs for the roots and branches still lying in its potential. Joy and excitement fades as the rain begins. Slowly the seed feels the earth closing in around the protective shell it resides in. Rain beats down hard on it, burying it further. Eventually it is completely covered. The rain stops and the seed is safely nestled in darkness.
Ever so slowly, tender little roots shoot out from the split shell. Nourishment is found within the earth. Gentle rains quench the little seeds thirst. Yet it is not enough. It lives in darkness and longs for the light. Heavy rain beats down upon it. The movement of animals and wind wrench the tender roots away, tearing them apart. Weeds rise up and threaten to choke the life out of the seed. They tangle around its delicate roots and push it further into the earth. It seems as though it will never see the light.
What was once an adventure has become a terrible trial. As the seed imagines the sunlight it begins to despair of ever finding it. It takes comfort in making up fantasies. What is color? How does it feel to be fed by light? What must its new trunk and branches be like? Will they be strong? Will they endure? Yet it is overwhelmed by the dark, thick earth. It is a bitter life. One which drags the seed down yet gives it sustenance. The rain can be gentle, loving and nourishing. It can also threaten the life of the seed. A single heavy hailstone could crush its very existence.
For you see, the seed is not as independent as it once thought. Dreams and wishes may be well and good, but the seed cannot do anything to change what it is, how it lives or where it is planted. Only the gardener can pull away the weeds. Without the gardener there is no shelter from hail, animals or drought. Not even the gardener is capable of providing sunlight and rain, or the perfect soil to nourish the plant.
Trials throughout the earth will come even with the help of the gardener. Yet there is another life to come for the tiny little seed. Dream as it may it cannot possibly imagine the great tree that it will grow up to be. It ponders the beauty of sunlight, color and its own form that is to come….but does it remember the Maker? Can it possibly even imagine the greatness of the One who made the light? Perhaps it is too difficult to understand these things…indeed, it is far beyond the gardener’s understanding and he is much wiser than the seed.
I wonder though, is it not better to strive to understand the Maker, than the made?