Garden Moments

We are called to rise and to tend to what matters.

This reflection was delivered at Kingsteignton URC on 11 May 2025.

Scripture: Acts 9:36-43

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

Not far from here, there’s a garden. It’s not a grand estate garden or a designer showpiece. It’s not in a perfect location or an ideal plot of land. It’s tough to find and just a humble patch of soil, worked by hands that believe something good can grow. People, especially those with mental health struggles, come together there to plant, to water, to pull weeds, to share the harvest.

And it’s not just about vegetables—it’s not even primarily about them. It’s about nourishment, about community, about hope. Gardens like this are popping up all over the place here and abroad. In fact, I read an article in the Mid-Devon Advertiser talking about a community garden that opened last September in Newton Abbot. A small group began with a vision and a plot of land. And now, it’s growing—slowly, quietly, faithfully.

We spend a lot of time in the church talking about Jesus’s resurrection, but those gardens speak to me of every day resurrection. Every day resurrection isn’t the flashy, immediate kind. It’s the sort that takes time. It’s the sort that begins with tired ground, a few seeds, and people who believe that life can, that life will come again.

And that’s the kind of resurrection we find in today’s scripture. Tabitha—also known as Dorcas—is one of the few women in the New Testament actually named as a disciple. Her ministry wasn’t loud or public. It was domestic, relational, and it was essential. She sewed clothes. She helped widows. She stitched compassion into every garment she made. And when she died, the community didn’t just cry; they called for help.

Hearing a disciple of Jesus was nearby, they sent men to him, begging him to come. When he arrived, they showed Peter her handiwork, as if to say, “This is the gospel in fabric. Don’t let it end here.” Then Peter prays, and Tabitha rises. It’s a miracle, and not just because her breath returns. It’s a miracle because her ministry continues. Her life, like a seed that seemed lost, grows again.

We are standing in a garden moment as a church. The old soil has been turned. We’ve let go of a space that held many memories. But the ground is ready for something new.

In Greek, there are two words for time. Chronos is the time we measure: days, weeks, church calendars and committee meetings. But Kairos is something entirely different. Kairos is the time we feel in our bones. It’s the opportune moment. It’s the Spirit’s nudge. It’s the holy “now.”

That’s where we are: a kairos moment. Everything may not be clear yet, but everything is open. The possibilities are there. The seeds are in our hands. The soil is right in front of us. And God is whispering: plant something new.

Tabitha’s resurrection was a kairos moment. Her life, her love, her sewing—all those acts of care—like John the Baptist, her ministry prepared the way. And when the opportune time came, God did something no one expected. New life sprung up from loss. A new beginning, not just for Tabitha, but for the whole community she served.

We are not called to go back to what was. We are called to rise. To tend what matters. To trust that when we plant in faith, God will bring the growth—in kairos time. So let us keep planting. Keep praying. Keep listening for God speaking in our midst.

We may be at an end, but it is not the end. It is merely another beginning.

Let us rise again. Amen.