he day before I received my diagnosis, a new friend with little inkling of what was about to unravel said he felt led to pray for me:
“As I prayed for you, I saw potatoes growing under the soil in a big field. I felt from the vision that your next season is still fruitful, even though it may not bear visible fruit. The fruit is underneath the surface, and they fill the entire field.
Incidentally, potatoes are called ‘apples of the ground.’ The encouragement to you is to press on!”
As the surgery and post-surgical rehabilitative plans unravelled, as the pain continued to persist after surgery, I realized how my limitations in writing, typing, working, cooking and exercising would affect life. Speaking engagements had to be cancelled, meetings, rescheduled. Working was impossible. I lost my daily gym community. I couldn’t write my regular reflective articles for online magazines. Our trip to Tanzania had to be postponed.
As I took in the losses, the potato field came to mind- that while we may not bear visible fruit in every season for all to see and enjoy, while I may not be preaching or working or cooking or writing, my identity and worth remain the same.
If you, like me, are in a “season of potatoes,” know this— the fruit you bear behind closed doors or underneath a pile of dirty diapers, away from raucous applause and the shiny spotlight are just as precious to God, even if they be hidden from the eyes of the world. Fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control (Gal 5) might look like underground potatoes, but they are no less cherished by God.
If we use the similar though slightly different analogy of Psalm 1:3, a tree drinking from the rivers of His heart may not bear fruit all the time, but will, in due season, bear fruit again.
Let’s take heart together.