Bloom Where God Plants You

Photo credit to Pasi Jormalainen on Unsplash.

Last week I attended my first writer’s conference, and it was a blast. There were many people there who I'd previously only written with online, and meeting them in person was a cool experience. The lessons were amazing, the teachers kind and helpful, and the community there was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt like I had finally found my people.

As the week drew to a close and the time of departure came nearer, I started to feel pangs of unhappiness and discontentment. Soon I’d have to go back to where I was just a random person in the crowd. Soon I’d go back to where writing was something most people my age didn’t care a dime about. Soon I’d go back to where there wasn’t a community for me like this one.

There was one point during the week where I had to run back to my room alone to grab something I needed. As I was crouched on the floor, rummaging in my satchel, these feelings overpowered me again, and I started to feel sorry for myself.

As I sat there, I heard God say something very important to me. It wasn’t an audible voice or a voice I could physically hear. Instead it was a deep impression, a reminder. And what I heard was this:

Bloom where I plant you.

At once, I was struck by the meaning of the words and deeply convicted. Contentment with my community has been something I’ve struggled with a lot of my life. There have been times where I’ve had no other young writers to talk to. There have been times when I’ve had no friends to read my writing. There have been times when I’ve felt like I didn’t have a community period. And I’ve always struggled with resentment for that.

But God didn’t plant me in the middle of artistic Nashville. God didn’t plant me in a town with a lot of writers my age. God didn’t plant me there because that’s not where I’m supposed to grow.

"I’m so sorry, God. I’m sorry I haven’t wanted to grow where you planted me," I thought, sitting there on the floor.

I don’t know why I’ve not been planted in some of the places I want to be, but God does, and that’s enough. Sometimes I may feel parched and dry for the community I long for, but God will water me with what I need. He will sustain me. Like Andrew Peterson has said, he’s the “God of the Garden”. He’s the vine. We’re the branches. The gardener always knows when and how to take care of his plants.

Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!

-Luke 12:24

Today I challenge you to fight any discontentment you have about where you’ve been planted. Life has its seasons, and God has put you in this season for a reason.

Bloom where God has planted you.