The Harvest
What has God been growing?
Hey there,
There is something beautiful about this time of year.
The air changes. The mornings grow quieter. The trees begin letting go of what they have carried all year.
And everywhere we look, there are reminders that growth doesn't happen all at once.
There was a time when the seed was hidden beneath the soil.
A time when nothing seemed to be happening.
A time when roots were growing where no one could see them.
A time when the garden needed watering and tending and patience.
And eventually, almost imperceptibly, what was hidden began to show itself. This rhythm feels like where we've been in our morning prayers...
In August, we started with tending— by paying attention to what God had already placed in our hands.
Then in September came the theme of holy invitations—learning to notice where God might be asking us to say yes, no, wait, begin, stay, create, rest, reach out, or try again.
And now we arrive at October—the harvest.
Of course, that doesn't mean every dream has come to fruition. It doesn't mean we've figured things out or that we can look at what we've planted and know exactly what it will become.
Life rarely works that neatly.
Sometimes the harvest is simply this: stopping long enough to see what God has been growing in the places we weren't even thinking to look.
What has God been growing?
That's the question I want us to carry through October.
Because I think we're often much better at noticing what hasn't happened yet.
...the unanswered prayer...
...the unfinished project...
...the opportunity that never opened...
...the dream that still feels far away...
...the thing we thought would look different by now...
We can become so focused on the fruit we are still waiting for that we overlook the fruit already growing in our lives.
Maybe you are more patient than you used to be.
Maybe you've learned to trust God in a place where you once needed certainty.
Maybe you've finally given yourself permission to create again.
Maybe you've learned how to say no without guilt.
Maybe you've become softer. Braver. More honest. More willing to ask for help.
Maybe you have endured something you never thought you could endure.
Maybe you are learning to rest.
Maybe you've begun paying attention to the quiet voice of God in the ordinary moments of your life.
Maybe the harvest isn't something you can hold in your hands at all, maybe it's who you are becoming.
And perhaps that's one of the most important things we can remember:
The work God is doing in you is every bit as important as the work He is doing through you.
We live in a world that loves visible results.
Numbers.
Accomplishments.
Finished projects.
Launched dreams.
Beautiful things we can photograph and point to and say, Look what I did.
But God has never been limited to what can be displayed.
Some of His deepest work happens underground. In the roots. In the hidden places. In the parts of us nobody else sees.
And eventually, we look up and realize—
Oh. Something has changed. I have changed.
God has been growing something here all along.
So this month, we're going to practice noticing.
We're going to recognize the fruit we've almost missed.
We're going to receive what God has grown instead of immediately asking what we need to do next.
We're going to remember that harvest is meant to be shared.
And we're going to practice releasing the harvest back into God's hands because the harvest belongs to Him.
The seed was His. The soil was His. The rain was His. The growth was His. And somehow, by His grace, He invited us to participate.
That's enough to make me want to sit on the porch for a while... to drink my coffee slowly, to look around, to remember, and to give thanks.
Perhaps this season is also an invitation for some of you to pull up a chair a little closer.
I've loved meeting you here in your inbox every morning.
But I also know that sometimes reading about a faithful life and actually practicing one are two different things.
That's part of why I created The Practice.
The Practice is a year-long place to pull up a chair and go deeper into these rhythms together. It's not another thing to accomplish. It's not an art course. It's not a program designed to turn you into a more productive version of yourself.
It's a table. A place to write, pray, paint, wonder, tell stories, make things, pay attention, and practice becoming more awake to the life God is inviting you to live.
Each month, I'll send something new to your table—sometimes something to read, sometimes something to make, sometimes something to consider, sometimes something to hold onto.
There are books and creative invitations and tangible pieces that arrive throughout the year in a combination of physical and digital packages.
But underneath all of it is something much simpler: Come sit with us.
Come make some room. Come pay attention.
Come discover what God might be growing in you.
And if you've been reading these emails for a while and thinking, I wish I could go a little deeper into this, this is your invitation.
The Practice is open again.
And you don't have to wait until next year. You don't have to catch up. You don't have to start on the "right" day.
I've revamped the way you can enter The Practice and you can now join at any point and you won't miss a thing.
If you've been wondering what it looks like to go a little deeper into these rhythms, here's a little glimpse inside The Practice. Our first box begins with The Way of the Faithful Creator—a guide to help us think about what it means to create faithfully, pay attention to God, and make room for the ways He speaks through our everyday lives.
Along with the hardcover book, you'll find a little notebook, colored flags for marking the pages that speak to you, and a bookmark carrying the ten ways we'll be returning to throughout our year together. It's a simple beginning, but that's intentional. We're not rushing into the year. We're pulling up a chair, opening the pages, and beginning together. I'd love for you to join us.
Harvest isn't really about arriving at the end of the story. It's about looking around and realizing that somewhere along the way, something grew.
I have a feeling there are things in your life right now that are worth noticing.
Things you almost dismissed because they seemed too small. Things you haven't celebrated because they didn't happen the way you thought they would. Things you might not even recognize as growth because you've already moved on to wondering what comes next.
So before we rush ahead, I want to invite you to slow down with me.
Look around a little.
What is here that wasn't here before?
What has God been growing in you?
What can you receive with gratitude instead of immediately asking what you need to do with it?
And when we do look ahead, let's do it with open hands. The harvest belongs to God, after all. We don't have to hold onto it too tightly or make it prove something about us.
There will be more invitations. More ordinary days that become holy. More things we can't see yet.
But we don't have to get there today.
For now, maybe the invitation is simply to notice.
What has God been growing?
And perhaps the harder question: Can I receive it?
I'm glad you're here. Let's welcome the harvest together.
Pray with me...
God,
Help us slow down enough to notice.
So often we are looking for what comes next that we miss what You have already been doing. We look for the big answer, the finished dream, the visible fruit—and forget that You are just as present in the quiet growth as You are in the harvest we can see.
Open our eyes to what has changed. Remind us of the places where You have grown something in us that wasn't there before. Give us gratitude for the small things, the hidden things, the things that don't look impressive but carry the evidence of Your faithfulness.
Teach us to receive what You have given without immediately turning it into another task. Let us enjoy the good things You have grown. Let us share what we can.
And when it is time to let something go, give us open hands. Help us remember that the harvest was never ours to control. You are the One who gives the growth.
Thank You for every seed, every season, every hidden root, every unexpected bloom. When we are tempted to rush toward whatever comes next, bring us back to this moment.
Help us notice. Help us receive. Help us give thanks.
And help us trust You with whatever comes after.
Amen.
Thank you for being here.
