Covered in Fertilizer

Yesterday… My wife came home all excited about a new purchase she made…

Fertilizer!

Now you need to know… This is not just any fertilizer… This is THE fertilizer that is going to make her flowers bloom like they’ve never bloomed before. And it comes with special instructions for feeding the plants. Apparently you don’t just put the plant food on the plant… It must be mixed with a gallon of water first and then pour it on the plants.

I cannot honestly say that I shared in her enthusiasm, but then today the Lord had me reflect on Jesus’ parable of the barren fig tree in Luke 13:6–9. It’s a short story, but it has settled into my heart. More than ever, I feel like I’m the tree receiving special attention from the Gardener… including… you guessed it… fertilizer.

The truth is, being covered in fertilizer isn’t glamorous.

When we think about God’s blessings, I usually imagine mountaintop experiences, answered prayers, and visible victories. But sometimes God’s greatest work happens in the messy places. Sometimes growth comes wrapped in discomfort. Sometimes the very things I wish God would remove are the things He is using to nourish my roots.

In the parable, the owner wants to cut down the fruitless tree. It has occupied space for years without producing anything. But the gardener intervenes.

“Leave it alone for one more year,” he says. “I’ll dig around it and fertilize it.”

What strikes me is that the gardener doesn’t simply ask for more time. He gets involved. He gets his hands dirty. He commits himself to the tree’s future.

Lately, I feel like that tree.

God keeps digging around areas of my life I would rather leave untouched. Old assumptions. Hidden fears. Pride. Self-reliance. Things I thought were buried long ago suddenly find their way to the surface.

And then comes the fertilizer.

Unexpected challenges.

Delays.

Lessons that seem to repeat themselves until I finally learn them.

Moments that humble me.

At times, I’ve wondered why God keeps allowing these things. Why not just let me grow in peace?

But healthy roots don’t grow in shallow, unfertilized soil.

The gardener knows something the tree cannot see. Fruit is coming. Not because of the tree’s strength, but because of the gardener’s care.

That’s what gives me hope.

The fertilizer isn’t evidence of God’s disappointment. It’s evidence of His investment.

The digging isn’t rejection. It’s preparation.

The waiting isn’t abandonment. It’s cultivation.

The reason God hasn’t moved on from me is because He sees something I don’t yet see. He knows that beneath the surface, roots are growing deeper. What looks like delay is actually development.

I don’t always enjoy the process. In fact, if I’m honest, sometimes I complain about the smell of the fertilizer while forgetting the purpose of it.

But when I step back, I realize something beautiful: the gardener only fertilizes what he intends to keep. And he mixes it with the freshwater of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus has not given up on me.

He hasn’t abandoned the soil.

He hasn’t written me off as a lost cause.

Instead, He continues to work the soil of my heart with patience, mercy, and determination.

So if this season feels messy, uncomfortable, or even embarrassing, perhaps that’s not a sign that God is distant. Perhaps it’s a sign that He is near.

Perhaps I’m simply covered in fertilizer.

And maybe that’s exactly where growth begins.