They Are Dying

The changing of the seasons bring with it odd little reminders. For instance, as everything begins to go dormant for the winter cycle, I am reminded that I do not have a green thumb. I like a pretty yard as much as the next fellow but I am more the homicidal horticulturist type, which is why I am partial to cactus: it is the only green thing I can keep alive for very long. I have often passed plants I have tried to sustain, thinking “I sure need to water them.”

I keep trying my hand at the green stuff, though. On one occasion, I tried my hand at growing plants under the office sign at a church building. I figured a little Golden Euonymus and a rich, green Hibiscus plant would spruce up the place. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the leaves began to turn that crisp, golden color (and it was not winter). In an off-handed comment to my wife, I said, “Aren’t those variegated leaves so pretty.” Her rejoinder was honest. “Those leaves are not variegated, Honey. Your plant is dying.”

I keep thinking that a great part of our problem with lost souls is our inability to recognize them as such. We see them everyday at work and school. Our busy lives are intertwined with theirs in social events and the PTA. At work, we even know how much sugar they like in their morning coffee. But, we fail to see that they are dying. We are numb. Beautiful lives, scared by sin, are part of our everyday experience and because we are so busy, we fail to share with them the Water of Life. Our fast-paced lifestyles allow us to overlook the ugly reality of a lost soul. And, we are often found drifting through life’s little day, thinking, “I sure need to talk to them.”

Paul said, “I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase” (1 Corinthians 3:6). And, to our shame, we are content to pass them by, only to comment: “I sure need to water them.”