Greetings friends,
This is Mark Lardman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in dogs.
Welcoming you to another day,
Day 34 of our Lenten series.
In the wilderness,
Still held as we walk through John's Gospel towards Easter.
As always,
I invite you to settle yourself,
To bring your full self,
Mind,
Body,
Heart together here into this space for this moment.
Giving our ears,
Especially the ear of our heart to Boris and Benedict's term,
To the voice of the Spirit as we share in our reflection today.
Today's words come from the Gospel according to John chapter 12,
Where Jesus says,
Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies,
It remains just a single grain,
But if it dies,
It bears much fruit.
Now on the surface,
This can seem like a really strange image,
A seed falls into the earth,
It disappears beneath the soil,
It's covered,
It's buried,
It's hidden.
And from the outside,
It actually looks like a loss,
A defeat,
It's no longer visible,
And it's no longer growing,
At least in any way that we can see,
But inside the dark soil,
Something gentle,
Quiet and irreversible is happening.
The seed is breaking open and transformation is beginning.
Life is forming where there was once only potential.
It's probably no coincidence that Jesus offers this image just before Holy Week,
Before the cross,
And before the silence of the tomb.
He's preparing those who are listening and probably also preparing us to understand something about the way life unfolds in God.
Not everything that looks like dying is a defeat.
Some losses are actually germination.
Some endings are actually the beginning of a richer and deeper life.
In the spiritual life,
Growth is often hidden.
We like to see visible progress,
Don't we?
Clear signs,
Quick outcomes,
Things we can measure.
But much of the most important transformation happens underground,
Where no one can see it,
And where often even we can't see it.
Think about a seed.
The moment it enters the soil,
It doesn't immediately sprout upward.
First,
It breaks open.
Its outer form dissolves.
Its structure changes.
For a time,
And depending on the plant,
Sometimes for a long time,
There is no visible evidence of a plant.
It doesn't mean it's not there.
It's just that this growth is happening in darkness and hidden change.
But this unseen stage is absolutely essential because without it,
We get no plant and we get no fruit.
It goes without saying that many of us find ourselves in seasons like this,
A season where something feels buried,
Plans that have fallen away,
Certainties that we can no longer hold,
Old identities that are losing their grip.
It can feel like we've been stomped underground.
It's uncertain.
It's invisible.
It's quite often dirty and murky,
And sometimes it hurts.
But the wisdom of the seed invites us into another way of seeing.
What if this hiddenness isn't failure but preparation?
What if transformation is already unfolding beyond what you can currently see in you,
Right now?
It's interesting that the wilderness knows this rhythm incredibly well.
In the wilderness,
Seeds disappear into the earth long before life emerges.
Rain falls,
Soil softens,
Time passes,
Nothing appears to be happening at all.
And then slowly,
Life breaks the surface.
But the real work began long before anyone noticed the little seedling that's begun to emerge.
And this is the kind of trust that Jesus invites us into.
Trust that's hidden in transformation.
Trust that God is at work even when growth is invisible.
Trust that the soil of this season may be doing something deeper than you even realize.
So,
Just for a moment,
Gently bring your attention to your own life and notice what in your life right now feels buried.
Is there something that's disappeared from view?
Something that feels like loss or uncertainty?
And as you're aware of that,
Hold this other question up to it.
Where might hidden transformation be occurring within that loss or that uncertainty or that thing that's disappeared from view?
Yes,
It's not visible yet and it's not fully formed,
But what might be quietly unfolding beneath the surface?
And the question is,
Can you allow this season to be what it is?
A season of unseen growth,
A season where roots are forming,
A season where patience is part of abiding.
Abiding with God often requires trust in what we can't yet see.
And like the seed in the soil,
Sometimes we're asked to rest in the dark for a little while.
And it's not that we're abandoned or forgotten,
But we're being reshaped,
Reshaped in ways that only time will reveal.
So,
As you breathe slowly in this moment,
Hold to that trust that life can unfold even in the hidden places.
Jesus says those who lose their life will keep it for eternal life.
That phrase eternal life in the Greek isn't something that's later on,
It's now.
It's a fullness of life that we can experience in this moment.
Those who lose their life will keep it for eternal life,
For fullness of life.
This is the paradox at the very heart of the gospel.
What falls into the earth may rise in ways that we cannot imagine.
And as we continue through Lent,
Approaching the mystery of Holy Week,
We're invited to trust this pattern,
Burial,
Hiddenness,
Transformation,
And eventually new life.
Take a slow breath in and gently out.
And as you continue in that steady breathing,
Let a quiet hope settle within you.
A steady hope.
The kind of hope that knows that even underground,
Life is already beginning.
And as you go into your day,
Carry this quiet trust with you that even in the hidden seasons,
God is at work.
And as you go into your day,
May grace,
Peace,
And love go with you all the way,
Every step,
Even deep beneath the soil.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
My friends,
God bless.
