Every season has its beauties, but spring might just be the most eagerly anticipated of them all. Here in southwest Michigan we’ve had an exceptionally frosty winter but finally are noticing bits of neighborhood greenery…. with great joy.

Last fall our friend Teddy planted dozens of hosta plants in my small yard, plants that were given to us by a generous friend. All winter I thought of those gnarly-looking roots buried beneath frozen dirt with a couple of feet of snow on top of them. Would they make it through? Would we see them again when spring finally arrived?

And now spring is here.

It was two weeks ago that I first began noticing other people’s perennials surfacing, but ours were still a no-show. I wondered if the transplant last October might have been too much for them. Or had they sat in my buckets too long between being uprooted and put under again?

I gently raked around the spots where the root balls had been planted, clearing away stray ivy vines, acorns, and stones along the way. I didn’t want anything to hinder their appearance. Still, two weeks after seeing other gardens take on a green glow, our hostas were MIA. I continued to check on them with hope.

Though I don’t have a very green thumb, I think that springtime anticipation of new growth is part of what draws people back to all the hard labor gardening requires, year after year. Is it possible that’s the way we ought to think about spiritual growth, too? Shouldn’t we have the same eager expectation?

Sometimes I’m not sure we even want spiritual growth. Once we learn that becoming more Christ-like usually comes wrapped in difficulties, asking for it is tantamount to asking for trouble. Like a new gardener hoping for a showcase yard without too much planting, weeding, and watering, we’d rather become spiritually mature without all the trials and tribulations.

But regardless, whether we’re feeling up for another growth spurt or comfortable where we are, asking God to take us further with him will always be a valuable prayer. And he’ll always answer it with a yes.

Sure, it will most likely be a laborious process just as yard work is difficult, but the satisfaction we experience when our perennials peek through the dirt can’t compare to an increased understanding of God and his ways.

As for my hostas, yesterday I checked one more time, and lo and behold, I found several tiny green points reaching for the sun. I was so happy, I let out a whoop that even startled Jack. May I be even more excited than that to see the tiniest sign of growth in Christ…. in my life.

“Let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity.” (Hebrews 6:1)