What the Homestead Teaches About Faith

I was talking with a friend the other day about faith, fellowship, and the way we grow as Christians. Somewhere in the middle of that conversation, I found myself talking about asparagus.
Which, I wish surprised me more.
Around here, most life lessons eventually wander through the garden, the barnyard, or the greenhouse before they find their way into words.
We started some asparagus in the basement a few weeks ago under grow lights, and for a while, the plants looked beautiful. They were green, healthy, and growing in that perfect little world where the temperature stayed steady, the light was controlled, and nothing much challenged them.
But then we started moving them outside to harden off, and almost immediately, those lush green asparagus plants began turning pale. They hadn’t died, but they had reached the point where the conditions around them revealed something we couldn’t see before. They needed more room to grow.
So without too much fuss, we transplanted them into larger pots. Within a couple of days, the little ferns began to turn green again. Not quite the bright green they had been under ideal conditions, but a healthy shade that told us they were doing more than just surviving.
Just like those asparagus plants, our faith can look healthy, especially in sheltered conditions. But when it faces real weather, we find out whether our roots have enough room to allow us not only to survive, but to flourish.
But making room for growth is only part of the work. Once something has room to grow, you also have to tend the ground around it.
That made me think about the preparation we do in the garden. For years, we (mostly mom) spent hours down on hands and knees, pulling weeds from between the rows. This year, we decided to lay down landscape fabric. It covers the spaces around the plants, except for the holes we cut to let each plant grow through. The goal is simple: give the plants room to grow while making it harder for weeds to take over the in-between places.
And weeds love the in-between places.
They don’t usually take over all at once. They creep in quietly. A little distraction here. A little bitterness there. A root of pride. A patch of fear. A few habits we meant to deal with later. Before long, they begin stealing nutrients, space, and strength from what was meant to grow.
That is why prayer, Bible study, fellowship, worship, and obedience matter so much in our daily walk with Christ. They are not just things we do after the weeds have taken over. They are part of how we tend the soil of our hearts before sin, bitterness, fear, pride, or distraction can settle in and grow deep roots.
And still, even a well-tended garden is not the only thing on a homestead that needs protection.
We have a lot of animals. Chickens, turkeys, ducks, geese, goats, rabbits, pigs, and a cow. They all have their own pens, stalls, and fields to spend their days in. From the outside, those fences and walls can look restrictive, but on a homestead, they are not there to punish the animals. They are there to keep them from the road, predators, poisonous plants, and places where they could get hurt or cause damage.
The fence is not the enemy of their freedom. It is part of what makes safe freedom possible.
God’s commands and boundaries are much the same. They are not meant to rob us of life. They are meant to protect the life He is growing in us. Sometimes we resist them because we only see what they keep us from. But God sees what they are keeping us for.
The more time I spend on the homestead, the more I realize growth is rarely accidental. Roots need room. Soil needs tending. Living things need boundaries. And sometimes God uses asparagus, landscape fabric, and stubborn animals to remind me that He is always teaching, always tending, and always making room for something stronger to grow.