“I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.”
— 1 Corinthians 3:6

Some work is too important to be measured by our own harvest.

That thought has been following me through several reflections lately. I have been thinking about trees we plant but may never sit under, seeds we sow but may never see sprout, and the long work of investing in people, communities, and futures beyond our own lifetimes.

Then Paul brings the image home.

“I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.”

Paul was writing to a divided church. Some were saying, “I belong to Paul.” Others were saying, “I belong to Apollos.” They were turning servants into celebrities and spiritual formation into tribal loyalty.

Paul refuses the game.

He says, in essence, “Do not confuse the worker with the source. Do not confuse the planter with the Lord of the harvest. Do not confuse the one who waters with the One who gives life.”

Paul planted.

Apollos watered.

God gave the increase.

That is a humbling word for leaders, teachers, pastors, mentors, parents, coaches, friends, and all who invest in the lives of others.

It is also a grateful word for all of us who have been shaped by the investments of many people.

How many people have invested in the harvest that is your life?

How many hands and hearts have been involved in your progress toward maturity?

How many people helped you move from one stage of life to another?

Graduation is called graduation because growth comes by degrees. We do not become mature all at once. We move step by step, lesson by lesson, correction by correction, encouragement by encouragement, failure by failure, grace by grace.

The answer is many.

Too many to enumerate.

There have been people who planted seeds in us before we knew what they were doing.

They deposited knowledge, sparks of insight, fragments of dreams, and small possibilities into the ready soil of our lives. Sometimes we were not ready at all, but still, the seed was planted.

A teacher said one sentence we never forgot.

A parent modeled perseverance.

A pastor opened Scripture in a way that awakened hunger.

A friend believed in us before we believed in ourselves.

A coach saw potential.

A stranger offered kindness.

A critic, even, may have pushed us toward needed growth.

These were planters.

Then there were waterers.

These are the cultivators and tillers of the soil. They did not merely drop a seed and walk away. They stayed. They returned. They invested steady time.

They counseled.

They coached.

They mentored.

They taught us when we were hard to teach.

They corrected us when we needed correction.

They demonstrated truth consistently.

They repeated what mattered until we could finally hear it.

They labored long and hard with high hopes that our lives would bear good fruit.

Watering is not glamorous work.

It is daily work.

It is patient work.

It is the work of those who believe that something is alive beneath the surface even when they cannot yet see much evidence.

Then there are harvesters.

These are people who entered our lives at the right moment, when we were ready to step up and step out. They gave us the opportunity to shine, serve, lead, speak, create, decide, or take responsibility.

They opened a door.

They made an introduction.

They invited us to the table.

They entrusted us with a task.

They helped usher us through the final steps of one journey and into the first steps of another.

But even harvesters are not the source of the harvest.

God is.

God was present at the beginning.

God was present in the planting.

God was present in the watering.

God was present in the waiting.

God was present in the pruning.

God was present in the hidden growth.

God was present in the moment of readiness.

God was present in the harvest.

Paul’s point is not that planters and waterers do not matter. They matter very much. His point is that their importance is derivative, cooperative, and humble.

He says a few verses later:

“The one who plants and the one who waters have a common purpose, and each will receive wages according to the labor of each. For we are God’s coworkers, working together; you are God’s field, God’s building.”

We are God’s coworkers.

That is both dignity and limitation.

We participate, but we do not control.

We labor, but we do not manufacture life.

We teach, but we do not own the student.

We mentor, but we do not possess the future.

We preach, but we do not command the harvest.

We plant and water, but God gives the growth.

That should free us.

It frees us from pride when the harvest is abundant.

It frees us from despair when growth is slow.

It frees us from comparison when someone else’s role seems more visible than ours.

It frees us from the need to receive credit for every seed that sprouts.

It frees us to do our part faithfully and leave room for God to do what only God can do.

Some of us are planting right now.

We are speaking words, teaching lessons, shaping children, encouraging students, mentoring leaders, writing ideas, building communities, and placing seeds in soil that may not bear fruit for years.

Some of us are watering.

We are staying with people through long seasons. We are repeating truth. We are practicing patience. We are nurturing what someone else planted.

Some of us are harvesting.

We are helping people take the next step. We are recognizing readiness. We are opening doors and celebrating maturity.

Most of us are doing some of all three.

But none of us is God.

That is the great relief.

We do not have to be the source of life. We are called to be faithful participants in God’s life-giving work.

So give thanks for your planters.

Give thanks for your waterers.

Give thanks for your harvesters.

Give thanks for the people who saw something in you, stayed with you, challenged you, forgave you, taught you, and opened doors for you.

Then become one of those people for someone else.

Plant seeds.

Water faithfully.

Celebrate harvests.

And trust God with the increase.

This reflection was inspired by a dream that I recount in my Medium article, “Planting Trees We Will Never Harvest.” In that piece, I reflect on Socotra’s dragon blood trees, long hope, meaningful work, and the call to plant what may bless people beyond our own lifetime.

Read it here:
https://medium.com/@tomsims/planting-trees-we-will-never-harvest-de39e68b67a1?sk=15f8ba730acd2748005f1cd83ee66cf8