The whole nursery was abuzz with garden enthusiasts sporting floppy-brimmed hats and dirt spots on their well-worn jeans. I passed by the leggy begonias now deemed “clearance” worthy, and moved on to the more colorful mop-head hydrangeas. There they sat in fluffy pinks and blues; the result of much pampering and horticultural botox, no doubt.
“Oh, these are lovely,” remarked a woman from across the table. “Do you think these would do well in full sun?”
I looked up and met her blue eyes realizing she’d directed her question toward me.
“Uh, full sun? No, not really. These do well with a mix of morning sun and shade,” I offered. She seemed appreciative of my attention as we went on to talk about propagating the little darlings, and turning their blossoms from pasty white to blue or pink.
I left the nursery a little while later with a few purchases and wondered if I’d be so willing to talk about my faith in the same way I rattled off useless plant knowledge.
If I encountered someone on an ordinary day who uttered a few words spoken to no one in particular but just happened to land within earshot, how would I respond? Would I be ready to share what I know? Would I be willing to tell them how I became a Christian?
I mean after all, I know how I like my coffee. I know I love many types of music, and can document a personal play list to fit each mood. I know the names and growth habits of the majority of plants found at my favorite nursery, and love the opportunity to share my gardening trials and triumphs with others. I know exactly who is coming down the stairs in the morning, just by the sound of their footsteps. But, would I…could I share what I know and feel as
it relates to Jesus?
God brings about opportunities for us to live what we profess. I certainly wouldn't want to bungle an opportunity to share the gospel by offering a sloppy, form-letter type response to a sincere heart hungry for the truth.