Summer lessons

Okay, let’s play a word association game. When I say the word, “summer”, what do you think of? Let me guess: HOT. Yeah, it’s been a scorcher these past couple of weeks! Now that we’ve gotten the temperature out of the way, what else do you think of? Maybe it’s a vacation with the family, or time o from school. Maybe you have routines that include a little di erent rhythm than the rest of the year.  

 

Let me tell you what comes to my mind. Summer has a way of reminding me that I am not as much in control as much as I’d like to believe. Let me explain.

 

When we look around this time of year, the fields surrounding our communities are alive with corn, soybeans, alfalfa, and countless other crops. Or maybe look in your backyard and see your garden producing tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and beans. Lawns seem to need mowing every few days. Life is growing all around us. It’s beautiful. 

 

Yet beneath all that growth is a quiet truth: none of us can actually make it happen. Now, you might quibble with me. Yes, a farmer can prepare the soil with great care. He can select quality seed, apply fertilizer, control weeds, and maintain his equipment. A gardener can water faithfully, pull weeds, and protect young plants from pests. But the truth is, neither possesses the power to make a single seed come to life. 

 

Growth itself remains a gift. The same hands that plant the seed cannot command the rain to fall. They cannot order the sunshine to appear at just the right moment or prevent a late frost. No one can guarantee a perfect growing season. For generations, those who have worked the land have understood something our modern world often forgets. Diligence is our responsibility, but the outcome ultimately belongs to God. And this is both di icult and freeing at the exact same time. 

 

Perhaps that is why agriculture has always provided such rich imagery throughout the Bible. Jesus frequently spoke about seeds, vineyards, harvests, and fields not only because He lived in an agricultural setting, but because they reveal profound spiritual realities. A seed must disappear beneath the soil before new life emerges. A harvest requires patience and whether we like it or not, fruit cannot be rushed. 

 

The Apostle Paul knew this to be true as well. He wrote in 1 Corinthians 3:6, "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth." Paul was describing the work of God's kingdom, yet He captures something true about life itself. We are called to work faithfully, but we are never promised control over the results. James also commended the farmer for his faith in James 5:7. You see, summer teaches us lessons that extend far beyond agriculture. 

 

Let’s continue. Parents faithfully teach and love their children, yet they cannot ultimately control all the choices their children will make. Employers work hard to build successful businesses, yet they cannot always control the changing markets or the price of fuel. Students study diligently for exams, but they cannot predict every question. Doctors can provide remarkable care, yet even modern medicine has limits. 

 

So, we make plans and we work hard. In doing so, we pray for wisdom. These are good and honorable things. Scripture always encourages discipline, diligence, and faithful stewardship. But Scripture also reminds us that our best e orts are never the final word. Our best e orts cannot be our ultimate goal. 

 

What if our greatest struggle is not that we fail to work hard enough, but that we quietly convince ourselves we are in control? What if it wasn’t that we are ine icient, but that we actually walk by sight, not by faith? What happens to our faith if we believe that if we plan carefully enough, save enough money, make enough wise decisions, or work enough hours, we can insulate ourselves from uncertainty?  

 

Because life has a way of humbling us; a storm arrives, a diagnosis comes unexpectedly, a job disappears, a relationship changes. Suddenly we remember what summer has been teaching us all along. We were never truly in control. Oddly enough, that realization is not meant to produce fear, but trust. 

 

I don’t know if you would agree with this statement or not, but I have seen it in my own life and the countless number of people in my church experience: If everything depended upon us, we would carry every burden too heavy to bear. Every disappointment would become our failure. Every uncertainty would become our responsibility. Agree? 

 

Instead, the Bible invites us to labor faithfully while entrusting every outcome to the Lord. This trust is not an excuse for inaction by any means. Farmers still rise before dawn, gardens still need tending, families still need loving., and communities still require faithful neighbors. Trusting God does not replace responsibility. But it does transform it. 

 

Every green field, every growing garden, every timely rainfall quietly reminds us that a gracious God sustains us. Long before we wake each morning, He is already at work. Long after we have done everything within our power, He continues doing what only He can do. There is deep peace in recognizing that truth. 

 

So, as you drive past the fields this summer or harvest vegetables from your backyard garden, let them remind you of something more than another growing season. Your e orts matter. Work hard, to plan wisely, and to fulfill the responsibilities God has given you. At the same time, rest in the confidence that the world does not ultimately rest upon your shoulders. Trust Him with what you cannot control. After all, we may plant and water—but God gives the growth. 

 

Maybe this is one of summer's greatest gifts.