The Seeds God Uses

God uses tiny seeds to reap great harvests. It is on the back of donkeys he rides-not steeds or chariots-just simple donkeys.
Max Lucado

Some years ago, I was on a campaign in Hawaii. (Hey, somebody has to go to those desolate places!) My job was to go door-to-door and invite people to our nightly meetings. Most of the folks were kind but not too interested. Though no one was rude, no one asked us in either. Then we came upon a lady of grace who is not mentioned in Scripture only because she was born two millenniums too late.

I don't know her name, but I remember her presence-and her presents.

She was a wisp of a lady. Small. Oriental. Shoulders hunched by the years. A woman of modest means, she worked as a maid at one of the many hotels which dot the beach. When she learned we were sharing Christ, she insisted we come into her house and see how she was trying to influence her co-workers. Into a back room we went. In it was a large table covered with decoupage material. Glue. Paint. Wooden frames.

But most of the space was taken up by pieces of wood which were carved to look like an open wooden book.

She explained that she couldn't read, so it would be difficult for her to teach. She explained that she had little income, so it would be impossible to give money. But somewhere she had learned this craft and was now using it to introduce her faith to her friends. Her plan was simple. She took the wooden book and on one side of it pasted a Polaroid picture of her friend. On the other she put a Bible verse.

Her rationale? People love to see a picture of themselves. Most of her friends were simple folks with few wall decorations. Here was a way to hang a Bible verse on their wall where they would see it every day. Would something come of it? You never know.
But God does. God uses tiny seeds to reap great harvests. It is on the back of donkeys he rides-not steeds or chariots-just simple donkeys.

If I had asked my questions to the Hawaiian lady she would have answered, "He always needs us. We are his mouth. We are his hands." I can see her blush, honored that her gifts would be chosen by a king.

I wouldn't have had to ask, "Is it hard? Is it hard to give?" The answer was in her smile.
No sower of small seeds can know the extent of his harvest.

But don't be surprised if in heaven, next to David's sling and Moses' rod discover a decoupaged book with a picture and a verse.

From  And the Angels Were Silent Copyright © 1992  Max Lucado

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Originally published December 31, 2007.