Today’s Reading: Genesis 44-45, Matthew 13
A few days ago, I wrote something that has stayed with me:
The more I focus on God’s Word, the easier some of these things seem to become. The more naturally they begin to enter my thoughts, change my reactions, and take over my heart.
Then I read Matthew 12.
Jesus talks about what comes out of us being connected to what fills our hearts.
I noticed it immediately.
But I didn’t write about it.
Something in me felt like there was more there that I wasn’t supposed to rush.
Then today I read Matthew 13.
And there it was.
The seed and the soil.
The Same Seed. Different Soil.
In Matthew 13, Jesus tells the parable of the sower.
A farmer scatters seed.
Some falls along the path and is eaten by birds.
Some falls on rocky ground. It grows quickly, but because it has no deep roots, it doesn’t last.
Some falls among thorns and eventually gets choked out.
And some falls on good soil.
It takes root.
It grows.
It produces fruit.
The seed is the same.
The difference is what happens after it lands.
And immediately, I thought about this entire journey.
Because I’ve read these words before.
I read the Bible many years ago when my own relationship with God was first beginning.
And now I’m reading it again.
Genesis didn’t change.
Matthew didn’t change.
I did.
The Words Didn’t Change. The Soil Did.
That realization stopped me.
Because almost every night since beginning this journey, something has stood out to me differently than it did the first time.
Sometimes I don’t even remember noticing the passage before.
Other times I remember it, but suddenly I understand it differently.
Why?
I’ve lived more life.
I’ve experienced joy and loss.
I’ve made mistakes.
I’ve learned.
I’ve had seasons where I felt incredibly close to God and others where I allowed life and distractions to pull me farther away.
I’ve questioned.
I’ve struggled.
I’ve grown.
I’ve come back.
And now I’m bringing all of that with me when I read.
The words didn’t change.
The soil did.
Maybe that’s why something you can read at 20 can mean something completely different at 40.
Maybe that’s why you can hear the same verse a hundred times and then one day think:
Wait.
How did I never see that before?
Maybe sometimes we’re finally ready to receive something that has been there all along.
Maybe You’ve Tried This Before
This made me think about the person who might be reading this who doesn’t really know what they believe.
Maybe you’ve tried reading the Bible before.
Maybe someone made you read it growing up.
Maybe you went to church because your family went.
Maybe you opened the Bible once, read a few pages, and thought:
I don’t understand any of this.
Maybe religion has left a bad taste in your mouth.
Maybe you believe in God but don’t know what that means beyond believing He exists.
Maybe you’re searching right now.
Or maybe you’re not searching for God at all.
You’re just searching for something.
Some peace.
Some direction.
Some reason to believe that everything happening around you isn’t meaningless.
I don’t think I would tell you that you’re doing anything wrong.
I’d simply say:
Maybe try again.
Not because the words changed.
Maybe because you did.
Seeds Don’t Become Fruit Overnight
I think sometimes we expect spiritual growth to happen much faster than anything else in life.
We read something meaningful.
We pray.
We decide we’re going to change.
And then tomorrow comes and we’re still…
us.
Still worrying.
Still overthinking.
Still getting frustrated.
Still making mistakes.
Still occasionally doing the exact thing we told ourselves yesterday we weren’t going to do anymore.
But look at the image Jesus gives us.
A seed.
Nobody plants a seed in the morning and digs it up that night because it hasn’t produced fruit yet.
Growth takes time.
First something is planted.
Then roots begin forming.
Then eventually something breaks through the soil.
Then it keeps growing.
And only later comes the fruit.
Why would we expect our own transformation to work differently?
Some of the Most Important Growth Happens Where Nobody Can See It
This might be my favorite part of what I noticed today.
Before we ever see anything above the ground, something important is happening underneath it.
Roots are growing.
Nobody sees them.
There’s no applause.
There’s no visible proof yet.
But that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.
And I wonder how often we do this to ourselves.
I’m not changing fast enough.
I’m not where I should be.
Nothing is happening.
I’m still struggling with this.
But maybe something is happening.
Maybe you’re recognizing the thought faster.
Maybe you catch yourself before reacting.
Maybe something that used to consume you for three days now consumes you for three hours.
Maybe you forgive a little sooner.
Maybe you’re starting to question the fear instead of automatically believing it.
Maybe you’re learning that you don’t have to fix everything.
Maybe you give yourself grace on a day when you once would have beaten yourself up.
Those things might not look dramatic from the outside.
But they’re roots.
And eventually, roots produce something other people can see.
The Words Don’t Just Inform Us
This is what I’ve been trying to put into words throughout these last couple of weeks.
I don’t want to read the Bible simply to know more about the Bible.
I don’t want to finish this someday and say:
Great. I read the whole thing.
I want to understand it.
I want to question it.
I want to sit with the things I don’t understand.
I want to recognize where it challenges me.
And most importantly:
I want to see what happens when I actually try to live it.
Because I’m starting to believe more and more that God’s Word isn’t meant only to inform us.
It’s meant to transform us.
And transformation doesn’t necessarily happen because we memorize enough verses.
It happens when something gets planted deeply enough that eventually it begins changing what comes out of us.
We read.
We notice.
We practice.
We mess up.
We recognize it.
We try again.
And somewhere along the way, what once required enormous effort starts becoming a little more natural.
Maybe That’s What I’m Seeing in Myself
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how differently my brain responds to certain things now.
I’m still an overthinker.
I still have fear.
I still have days when my thoughts start running away from me.
But I’m recognizing them faster.
I’m interrupting fear sooner.
I’m asking different questions.
I’m catching myself when responsibility starts becoming control.
I’m learning that caring about something doesn’t automatically make it mine to fix.
And I don’t think those changes happened overnight.
Some of them have been growing for years.
This journey is simply making me notice the roots.
And that makes me wonder how many other things God has been growing that I haven’t recognized yet.
And Then There Was Joseph
Genesis 44-45 also felt important today because we’ve been following Joseph’s story closely.
A few chapters ago, Joseph was sitting in prison.
He had done the right thing.
He had helped someone.
He had asked to be remembered.
And he was forgotten.
We talked about how Joseph couldn’t do what we can do.
He couldn’t turn the page.
He didn’t know chapter 41 was coming.
But now we’re in Genesis 45.
Joseph is standing in a completely different place.
The famine has brought his brothers back before him.
Eventually, Joseph reveals who he is.
And now Joseph can look backward at a story that once must have made absolutely no sense.
The betrayal.
The pit.
Being sold.
Potiphar.
The false accusation.
Prison.
Being forgotten.
Pharaoh.
The famine.
His family standing before him again.
Joseph can finally see connections he couldn’t possibly have understood while he was living through them.
And what strikes me most is that Joseph doesn’t pretend what his brothers did was okay.
He acknowledges it.
But he can also recognize that their actions did not have the final word over his life.
God was still working through a story Joseph couldn’t yet understand.
Sometimes You See It Only Looking Back
Maybe that’s another kind of growth.
There are things I’ve experienced in my own life that made absolutely no sense while I was living them.
Things I questioned.
Things I wanted out of.
Things I would never have chosen.
And then years later, I could look backward and recognize what grew from them.
Maybe that’s why Joseph’s story feels so important to me right now.
Yesterday’s Joseph couldn’t see chapter 45.
Today’s Joseph can look back.
And maybe life works like that more often than we realize.
We’re demanding an explanation from chapter 40 for something we won’t understand until chapter 45.
We’re looking for fruit while God is still growing roots.
So Maybe We Keep Planting
I think that’s what I’m taking with me today.
Maybe I don’t need to see evidence of transformation every single day.
Maybe I don’t need every prayer answered immediately.
Maybe I don’t need to understand every passage the first time I read it.
Maybe I don’t need to know exactly where this entire journey is leading.
I can keep planting.
Read.
Pray.
Ask questions.
Practice.
Notice.
Come back.
And trust that something can be growing even when I can’t see it yet.
And if you’re reading this and you don’t know what you believe?
You can start there too.
You don’t have to understand everything.
You don’t have to suddenly become a different person.
You don’t even have to know exactly what you’re looking for.
Plant something.
Read one chapter.
Ask one question.
Say one honest prayer.
And then give it time.
Maybe one day you’ll return to words you’ve seen before and realize:
The words didn’t change.
You did.
Questions I’m Leaving With
What am I planting in my heart every day?
Am I expecting immediate fruit from something that is still growing roots?
Where can I recognize growth that I may have previously overlooked?
Are there things from earlier chapters of my life that I understand differently now?
And what might happen if I stopped worrying so much about how quickly I’m growing – and simply kept tending the soil?
Today’s Takeaway
Not all growth is visible.
Not all change happens quickly.
And not everything we’re living will make sense from the chapter we’re currently in.
Sometimes the roots are growing before we ever see the fruit.
Sometimes the meaning becomes clearer only when we look backward.
So keep planting.
Keep tending.
Keep coming back.
The words may not change.
But we can.
Until next time… keep noticing.