“Except a grain of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth by itself alone; but if it die, it beareth much fruit.”

Jesus referred to a grain of wheat when alluding to His upcoming death and resurrection. Likewise,

there is much to be gained in a spiritual sense from working in a garden. I spend many peaceful hours in our garden tending to a profusion of black-eyed susan, pink and white phlox, Russian sage, magnificent yellow and red day lilies and here and there a weed. Well, actually, quite a few weeds.

The flowers teach me patience. The weeds teach me persistence. Together, they remind me of the cycles of life, and the fact that we all have to adapt to changing conditions in order to survive and thrive.

The lessons of the garden begin with something as simple as a seed. Each plant has its own type of seed and its own method of dispersal. But, in order to germinate and grow, many seeds must shed their protective outer shell. They have to become vulnerable, open to change, even as they are cast down into their darkest hour.

Just as a seed must die in order to bear much fruit, Jesus said, the Son of Man must die. Those who follow Him must also be prepared to die to self in order to be born again. This is not an easy lesson to absorb, but it is important enough that Christ spoke six different times about the need to bear fruit. And the only way to do that is by dying to self.

•  When someone wounds your spirit with a cutting remark and you stifle the urge to respond, that’s dying to self.

•  When you set aside your own to-do list for the day to help someone in need, that’s dying to self.

•  When you can read about the success of someone else without feeling a twinge of envy, that’s dying to self.

•  When you are laid low by sickness or injury and bear your cross without questioning God, that’s dying to self.

•  When you feel grateful for all you have been given, and share your blessings with others, that’s dying to self.

•  When you can praise God in all things, that’s dying to self.

When we die to self, there is no telling how much fruit our lives might bear. We can count the number of seeds in a flower. But we can’t count the number of flowers in a single seed.