A Diligent Life

Earlier this year, a friend called and asked if we wanted any tomato plants. She had found a patch of tomato plants on her property that had sprouted voluntarily—obviously where someone had discarded some tomatoes last summer. I spoke with my wife, and we requested two plants. The idea of having our own vine-ripened tomatoes was thrilling.

We don’t typically grow produce, even though we both grew up with large gardens. My wife grew up in the country, and her folks had both a large garden and an orchard to feed their large family. I grew up on a farm surrounded by the farms of my relatives. My ancestors had arrived more than a century before I was born, so my experience was one of being related to practically everyone I knew and family gatherings numbering close to a hundred in attendance. We not only had our family garden and orchard behind our house, but also communal family plots spread across the farm. Watermelons, potatoes, turnips, and corn were all planted in large portions for the extended family to tend and harvest. At harvest, everyone would turn out and form an assembly line to process the abundance for storage. As a result, we grew practically everything we ate, both in the summer and winter.

So, you would think that with such a rich heritage of tending the soil, I would have a desire for and joy in growing my own food, and I would think that too. I often read through homesteading books and think about how nice it would be to live self-sufficiently. I am excited to see an article on how to lay out a garden that will supply enough food for a year, or to read about the latest innovations in raised beds, weed-free paths, and recaptured watering systems. However, as I have gotten older, I realize I love the idea of gardening, but not the work of gardening. It is hot, dirty, filled with biting insects, and everywhere you turn there are weeds and pests. Yes, you get the reward of produce at the end, but it is a long, hard slog to reach the goal. It is that way with many things in life: we like the idea more than the reality. Over the years, many people have asked me how hard it is to learn to play guitar. My answer has always been, “It depends on how badly you want to learn.” Monotonous practice and sore fingers drive many beginners to quit.

Anyway, we had a large container that would suffice to grow tomatoes on the driveway, so my friend delivered the seedlings, and I set them up with good soil, fertilizer, water, and a wire container around them to discourage the deer from adding tomato plants to their menu. I watered them every morning as I headed out for my dawn walk, and they grew. All was going well, and visions of blooms and growing tomatoes played each day in my head. Then one day, I was shocked to see that 80% of the leaves were gone. Close examination quickly revealed a Tomato Hornworm happily munching away. Since the plants were too far gone to survive, I left the caterpillar to do its work. This Tomato Hornworm will eventually turn into a beautiful Five-Spotted Hawk Moth. With over a five-inch wingspan, Five-Spotted Hawk Moths are large and regal moths seen often at dusk in the summer.

Within 24 hours, this caterpillar had completely stripped the two tomato plants. It did so because it was focused and diligent in its work. I realize that it is instinct and the drive to reproduce that hurry the Hornworm in its labor, but it also speaks to me of being diligent in one’s work. The Bible has a lot to say about being diligent in work and life, from referencing the ant who, “without having any chief or officer or ruler, it prepares its food in summer and gathers its sustenance in harvest” (Proverbs 6:7–8), to the observation that “those who till their land will have plenty of food” (Proverbs 12:11). One of my favorite verses concerning work is the well-known Colossians 3:23–24: “Whatever task you must do, work as if your soul depends on it, as for the Lord and not for humans, since you know that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward; you serve the Lord Christ.” Whatever you are doing, “be in the moment,” focused on the task at hand. Persevere until the task is completed, just like our friend the Tomato Hornworm, not stopping until every leaf had been eaten.