Once upon a time, there was a man who had a nice house with a small garden. The man did not take these blessings for granted, knowing that many others didn’t have the same advantages.
With a heart full of gratitude each spring, the man would work to clear the fall and winter detritus from the garden space and prepare the soil for a new year. After the almanac said he was in the clear, he would begin to plant the crops according to a schedule honed through years of experience and effort until he had planted the entire garden. Every day after that, every morning would see him in the garden, pulling weeds and staking and watering plants. Every evening, he would meander through the rows, resting from his daily labors by working just a few more minutes to ensure everything was growing as it should.
And then, never as a surprise but always seeming sudden, the garden would begin to produce a veritable treasure of ripe vegetables, far more than the man could enjoy at his simple table. So, in addition to his other daily tasks, he would gather all the ripe produce and take it with him into town. He’d give a prize-worthy tomato to the postmaster, a sack of summer squash to the bank teller, and a dozen ears of ripe sweet corn to the gas station attendant. Every day was different, but every day was a joy as he shared the fruit of his garden with his friends in town.
One day, the man came to town with his day’s worth of produce and saw a brand-new, shiny vegetable stand in the first parking lot downtown. Curious and excited to meet a fellow gardener, the man pulled in, parked, and went over to check it out. In the shade of a little awning hanging off the side of the stand stood a farmer who looked like the kind of farmer a Hollywood director would dream up. As the man walked up, the farmer leaned towards him and, with the most generous smile, offered his greetings. The man replied in kind, and soon, they started talking like old friends about the weather, the town, and their vegetables.
The man finally asked the farmer about his business prospects with the vegetable stand. The farmer laughed and said, “My friend, this is no business! My wife and I have such a large garden and fine, industrious children that our garden has produced far more than we could ever use. The farm has been in our family for generations, we’ve few bills, and the row crops make us more cash than we need. This stand is just a way to pass on the blessings: everything here is free to anyone who wants it or needs it.”
At first, the man was overjoyed to meet a kindred spirit, and he gladly added the vegetable stand to his regular rounds, enjoying conversations and silences with his new friend, the farmer. But, as the man came to town, day after day, with his paltry bag or two of vegetables, he began to grow uneasy. The farmer and his family had so much more to share, making his produce seem pitiful by comparison. Besides, one time when he came in, he saw the postmaster munching on a fresh carrot and laughing with the farmer. Another time, the bank teller was walking back to his car, arms full of sacks bursting with various vegetables, and the farmer was waving to him. Once, he even stopped by the gas station with some perfect cucumbers, and the attendant said he already had plenty from the stand.
The man was not envious, but he felt he didn’t have much to contribute anymore. In the evenings, he would look at his garden with weary eyes, wondering if all the effort was worth it.
After a few months, the season was winding down, and the man was talking with the farmer. He mentioned his feelings and admitted that he had contemplated not putting in the garden next year if the farmer planned to continue the stand. The farmer smiled and said that the stand was the most fun he’d ever had and that he intended to continue. And, he added that he had a perfect idea: why not go ahead and not put the garden in, and instead, help the farmer run the stand, giving away the produce from his family’s garden. The man admitted that he thought that sounded like a good plan. With smiles on their faces, the two men shook hands.
Soon, the leaves began to fall, burying the man’s garden under a comforting blanket. Rains began swirling through, eventually giving way to snow, layering additional insulation for the garden plot. But, when the spring came, the man didn’t get out to clear up and prepare for the planting. He didn’t get his planting schedule out or go out in the mornings and evenings. Instead, he discovered a love for playing solitaire and reading novels.
Eventually, he drove into town and saw that his friend, the farmer, had set up the stand again and was starting to give away produce. The man parked and went to help. When people were there, the farmer and the man helped them get what they needed and even offered tips and recipes. The man would stop at various places around town and tell people to see the farmer at the stand for fresh vegetables. When the day was over, the man would go home and play his card game or read a book.
The man was happy.
At first.
But, gradually, as the summer days stretched long and his garden patch looked increasingly ragged, the man began to sense that something was missing. The postmaster still smiled when the man walked in, but not with the same warmth as before. And the bank teller still joked with him, but like it was part of her job, not a joy. And the gas station attendant still pumped his gas and wiped his windows, but it was now different. And he and the farmer’s relationship had begun to wear thin, as they met no longer as fellow growers but almost as boss and hired hand. He directed people to the stand and helped them enjoy the farmer’s produce, but it wasn’t like before.
One night, he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked out into his garden, which used to be so neat and productive, and stood amidst the weeds and a few straggling volunteer tomato plants. He looked around at the sorry state of things, and tears began to slide down his cheeks. “What is wrong,” he asked, “people are still getting vegetables, I am still getting to see everyone and talk to them, and I don’t understand why I feel this way, all unfulfilled?”
Much to his surprise, the man heard an answer. He couldn’t tell if it came from the garden, the stars, or his own heart, but he heard it.
“You’re not producing your own produce, you’re just borrowing the farmer’s. Everyone is still provided for, but you aren’t contributing effort. The vegetables are good, but they aren’t yours. Therefore, you feel this way.”
In the dark of the night, the man continued to weep there, but this time, he picked up a hoe and began working in his garden again.
It is easy to rely on the fruit of other people’s relationship with God instead of cultivating one’s own, but it is not good.
