CLINTON EDITION: CHAPTER FOUR

Greetings little seedlings,

The ever-present metaphor of the garden, used both in scripture and in agriculture, has been true to form and the theme of this week. Where are you in your blooming process? Do you bloom where you're planted, or do you stunt your botanical growth with a sandy foundation? Gratefully and humbly, I have submitted to an all-powerful gardener this week and seen the miracles of the harvest in my own life. Not only are we seeds, but we have the potential to become trees! The trees of life, that bring about the fruits of eternity. Limitless is our potential and magnificent is our future... if we stop tending to our own crops and start blooming where we're planted! Wherever you are in the botanical path of discipleship, I invite you to BLOOM-- and to put your trust in that all-loving gardener; who loves you enough to cut you down, and cares enough to pour down the torrential rains to help you grow! Welcome my seedlings to another chapter... dare I say... an EDITION-- but not just any edition, the CLINTON EDITION: CHAPTER FOUR. 

What is our fertilizer? 

What is our sunlight?

How do we acquire the necessary materials to photosynthesize and to respirate properly? 

What lack we yet to be... trees? Or better yet, what can we do to start planting seeds? 

The abundance of questions in the garden of the Gospel. In order to answer these follies of foliage, we must first understand one important eternal truth:

Jesus Christ is qualified to be Jesus the Gardener:

To quote Truman G. Madsen:

It is called Gethsemane. Geth or gat means press, and shemen in Hebrew means oil. The place of the olive press. You can see presses still in Israel, for, after the processes of salt and vinegar and pressure, the olives are gathered, placed in a bag, and then with a huge crushing rock—to push it usually requires an animal—crushed until the oil flows. “The place of the olive press.”  

crushed until the oil flows--  symbolic both in scope and in agony. Like an invincible olive, Christ too was a seed once-- in fact, he was the [seed] of Jesse. However, in order to ascend and bloom into an eternal tree-- he took upon himself the pressing, crushing, and squeezing agony of the atoning sacrifice. At the "place of the olive press" the seed became the gardener-- and why did he do this, some in the field may ask? To quote the Book of Mormon, 

 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities."

Expectedly, our gardener had to know the struggle of his seedlings in order to help us grow. He had to know what it would feel like to shrivel, to shrink, to dry up, and even... to die. But fear not, ye seeds in the gospel gardens! As he harvested the demands of justice with his mercy and sowed the seeds of salvation-- he, himself, our great gardener went through the pains of the harvest... so that he could cultivate life. But not just life, abundant life! Sure, he shriveled, he shrank, he dried up, and he died... but because of him and his altruistic ascent, we don't have too. We have a harvest. We have growth. We have the respiration of repentance and the photosynthetic control of grace. Whenever he cuts us down-- he does so knowing our botanic potential. So, seedlings and trees alike, I invite you all to come- come into the field that is white and prepare to be harvested. Plant yourself in the firm foundation of Gospel, and surround yourself with the fertilizer of faith! Though you may seem in darkness... buried under mounds of dirt and opposition... always remember the Gardener. And one day when you surface, when you bloom, and when you become a tree-- you'll thank him for loving you enough to bury you. 

What. A. Metaphor. I love it. And I testify of the eternal growth and potential that we all have within us as the seeds of Christ. When the gardener comes, his field won't simply be a colony of seeds... but an orchard of eternal fruit trees! 

At Zone Conference this week we talked a lot about our legacy as representatives of Jesus Christ. I even capitalized on the opportunity to quote a reliable poet, "legacy. what's in a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see." Hence, the agricultural analogy. But seriously, what seeds do you want to plant in your garden? You may not live to see the harvest, but you will live to plant the potential. Thankfully, God knows the harvest-- and endows us with the potential to bring to pass his great gardening purposes. We were asked in the conference to ponder upon the question... "what do you want to be remembered for?" One of my favorite answers from the congregation was: a grinder. Isn't that incredible? This Elder wanted to be remembered as someone who truly understood the doctrine of the offering of our souls. As Joseph Smith once put it, "to offer our whole souls to God is to serve with all of our heart, might, mind, and strength." I'd invite each of you to consider this question in your own life. When you stand before the judgment of your loving Heavenly Father, and his son-- our mediator and gardener-- Jesus Christ, what is the first thing you want them to say to you? If I were you, I'd direct my attention to the 25th chapter of Matthew. Therein the Lord of the talents says to his faithful son, "well done thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord." That to me is a grinder and that to me is a legacy. 

Okay, so legacy and seeds, what else do you have for us, Seedling Boyd? 

Well. I'm so glad you asked. 

As far as the work in our own privileged part of the vineyard, and our own personal harvest-- I can say nothing, but of the miracles of the Lord. If you doubt that our God is a God of miracles-- come talk to me. If you need a witness to the miracles of the Gospel? I'm your guy. I will testify in the courts of heaven that our God and judge is a gracious, merciful man who rains miracles like Oprah on Black Friday. Seriously, we'll have a nice chat. But, tell me-- if you don't believe in miracles, how can you expect yourself to breathe? The metabolic processes of mortality are evidence enough that our God is a God of power, and of miracles. We are miracles. Take this week for instance-- did everyone listen to the Gospel? Not necessarily. But did those few who did listen, come prepared by the Lord with softened hearts, and minds and ears willing to accept the joy of the restored Gospel? Absolutely. That is a God of miracles. Miracles that we are certainly not worthy of, but that I am so grateful to be a part of. 

One particular experience comes to mind as I have oft pondered the love and mercy of a miracle God. Isn't it so wonderful to have an eternal father who is obsessed with the details of our lives? Now I'm absolutely positive that God has more important things to do than to be concerned with the streetball of South Jackson. But, as an answer to the diligent prayer of two sweaty white boys in slacks-- he called us to the court, to cross some ankles for the Savior. The deal always is: we win, you listen. After telling a member about this experience later that day he said, "great-- with that agreement, you have God on your side. No wonder you keep winning!" Granted our opponents have yet to graduate middle school, but still the miracles of God were manifest in our handles on the court, and the spirit in their hearts. 

The members here in Clinton are miracles in and of themselves-- tell me, is it not a manifestation of God's love to spend three hours with the missionaries going over every name in the ward roster to determine who to visit and who to put on the do not contact list? Or is it not the spitting image of the Spirit of the Lord to come out with the missionaries, have a canceled appointment, and then continue to fellowship with the Elders for the next three hours, visiting all the people they are teaching in the surrounding area? Or how can you even deny the presence of a loving Heavenly Father when a squadron of non-member young men show up to get some crossed ankles on Wednesday night and the present priesthood party fellowship them to infinity and beyond? I say again, I can speak no more of the miracles of our Lord. 

Well, that's all folks! The miracles of Mississippi are REAL!  Both on the court and the field. Y'all, I have the firmest testimony that our God loves us and shows that love through the miracles of our lives. We are seeds-- and we should be happy about that. To quote a missionary farewell this week, "we should be excited to be broken." Our great healer runs to our aid with the missing pieces-- he makes us whole and complete. He knows the potential of his seeds and the vision of his orchard! He loves us SO MUCH my fellow seedlings-- we just need to trust in that love when we're buried and broken. He will heal us and help us reach our celestial surface! I testify of the truthfulness of the Gospel and the reality of our eternal botanical destiny! Hope y'all have a great week-- take some time out in the sun to ponder your legacy. Give yourself a pat on the back for being buried! It's hard... and he knows that. But he also knows the joy you will feel as you bloom, sprout, and bring forth fruit-- and that makes all the dirt worth it! HAVE A GREAT WEEK Y'ALL! ELDER BOYD LOVES YOU! 

An olive, a little less pressed,

Seedling (Elder) Boyd

Something went awry uploading pics this week.  This is what I received: