This is Rev. Donn King. Welcome to Between Sundays, a production of Lincoln Park-Lynnwood United Methodist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee.
I’ve been thinking about something a little uncomfortable this week. Have you ever noticed how many important things in life refuse to happen just because we try harder?
If you’ve ever planted a garden, you already know this. You can water the soil. Pull the weeds. Make sure it gets enough sunlight. But once you’ve done what you can do, standing over the tomatoes and telling them to grow isn’t going to help. You do what you can (which, in this heat, isn’t a lot) and let go of the rest.
The same thing is true in a lot of life. Think about all the things that matter that you can’t force.
You can’t make a child become responsible simply by worrying more.
You can’t make another person forgive you because you’ve explained yourself one more time.
You can’t make grief hurry up and finish its work.
You can’t make trust grow overnight.
You can’t make someone love you.
There are some things that simply won’t respond to more effort.
That’s a little frustrating for people like me. I like solving problems. If something isn’t working, my instinct is to ask, “What do I need to do differently?” Sometimes that’s exactly the right question.
But not always.
Sometimes the hardest lesson is discovering there’s nothing left to do except wait... or trust... or simply remain present.
I’ve been thinking about Jacob this week.
When we meet him in Genesis, Jacob has spent most of his life trying to make things happen. If there was a blessing to obtain, he’d find a way. If there was an obstacle, he’d figure out how to get around it. He was resourceful. Clever. Determined.
Then one night he finds himself out in the wilderness with a rock for a pillow.
There’s no one to persuade. No bargain to strike. No advantage to gain. He’s finally in a place where his usual way of navigating life simply doesn’t work.
And that’s where God meets him.
I wonder how often we miss moments like that because we’re still trying to fix them.
Sometimes we pray as though God is waiting for us to discover the right combination of words. Sometimes we wear ourselves out trying to manufacture peace, or certainty, or joy.
But peace isn’t something we force into existence. It’s something we gradually receive.
I suppose that’s one of the quiet mysteries of the spiritual life. We do have responsibilities. We pray. We serve. We forgive. We show up. We practice faithfulness.
We plant the seeds, but we don’t manufacture the fruit. You can’t pull on the leaves to make a tree grow faster. You simply keep tending the roots and trust that life is happening in ways you cannot see.
Maybe that’s why Scripture so often compares God’s work to seeds, vineyards, and harvests. Living things have their own rhythm. They can’t be bullied into maturity.
Neither can we.
If you’re facing something this week that refuses to yield to more effort, maybe the invitation isn’t to try harder.
Maybe it’s simply to ask, “Lord, what is mine to do... and what belongs only to you?”
There’s a surprising freedom in discovering that not everything depends on us.
Maybe that’s one of the gifts of faith—not that we become passive, but that we stop carrying responsibilities that were never ours in the first place.
Maybe this week, when you catch yourself trying harder at something that won’t yield to effort, simply smile... and remember that some of God’s best work happens while we’re waiting.
Let’s pray.
Father, thank you for walking with us in the things we can do and in the things we cannot. Teach us the wisdom to know the difference, the courage to remain faithful, and the trust to leave the rest in your hands. Amen.
