The Frost Came Too Soon

Mommy, what’s the difference between a lima bean and a human bean?” The question brought a lift on the first frosty morning of the season. The grass shone white and beautiful. But the frost was too early. It left row after row of blackened, shriveled, despondent green and yellow beans in our Alpine vegetable garden. The day before I had looked expectantly at the thriving green leaves and sturdy plants—tiny beans that needed only a few more days of sunshine to ripen. I bought boxes to freeze the beans for Thanksgiving dinner and many winter meals. I thought of cutting the crisp beans in diagonal pieces or long french-cut bundles. I wondered how long it would take for the big orange blossoms to turn into zucchini and for the small green tomatoes to grow big and ripe.

But while we slept the frost came, leaving behind a crisp beauty that belied ruined crops. Yet the cabbage, carrots, beets, broccoli, lettuce, celery, onions, parsley, and dill survived. The resistance level to frost differs from plant to plant. The warm sunny days that follow the cold ones can cause more growth in the plants that resisted the first frost. But beans can’t make a comeback. For them the frost came too soon.

“The difference, darling?” I replied. “Well, a lima bean and a green string bean and yellow snap beans are all vegetables. We grow them, pick them, and eat them. A human bean is not a bean at all dear, but a being. A being is a person, like you and me. We can think and walk, and when we get cold we can seek shelter, a place to go out of the wind and frost, or we can put on a coat to wrap around us. To save our beans from freezing last night we should have thought for them and covered them with burlap bags.”

The dead leaves were reminders of Christians for whom the frost came too soon, and for whom no friend provided any burlap bags. Sturdier Christians must shield more frail ones.

The frost came too soon. The dead leaves reminded me of Christians for whom the frost came too soon, and for whom no friend spread burlap bags. The sturdier plants can’t protect the beans, but sturdier Christians can do something about protecting the more frail ones—and they are meant to. Not one of us is strong. We all need to ask the Lord for his strength in our weakness, moment by moment, to get on with what we are doing. We also need to help each other, especially those who are weaker than we are. Very tender plants, very young Christians, or very frail Christians need understanding and love, longsuffering and kindness, and the hospitality of other Christians. Remember that Paul spoke with great appreciation of three men: “I am glad of the coming of Stephanas and Fortunatus and Achaicus: for that which was lacking on your part they have supplied. For they have refreshed my spirit and yours” (1 Cor. 16:17, 18). Even Paul needed the loving care of other Christians. The “be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted” of Ephesians 4:32 does not only speak of forgiving as God has forgiven us for Christ’s sake, but it tells us to express kindness and tenderheartedness toward other Christians when they need it. That means sharing time and energy, as well as material things.

A burlap bag does not take the place of sunshine, but a burlap bag can keep the frost from hurting a plant. If the garden is large and the most fragile plants numerous, the problem is having enough burlap bags to protect them. When I hear of wilting Christians I think that no one has been willing to be a burlap bag in time. Each of us should be a burlap bag for someone else. Only the Lord can be our sunshine. But there are times when the frost permeates the garden and touches certain plants more than others. A plant can only be a plant; we can be both plant and burlap bag.

Hospitality? God asks that of us all. It is to be a burlap bag for some other Christian. It means giving your time and energy as well as your money for someone else.

The command in John 13:34, 35—“That ye love one another … By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples”—needs to be coupled with First Peter 4:8, 9—“And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves.… Use hospitality one to another without grudging.” These strong commands are meant to be practical. A burlap bag can’t cover much territory at one time; only a few plants can come under its shelter. Peter’s thoughts on hospitality tell us how to be a burlap bag. What does hospitality mean to you? Having a few people come to Sunday lunch? Inviting someone for tea or coffee to talk for an hour or two? Opening your home for a person in need to stay for a few days? Stopping to talk with a neighbor about the wonder of the Bible? Visiting someone in a hospital? What really is needed is sensitivity to the frost in the air, and to cheerfully become a burlap bag.

As I was writing this, a nurse called me. She was depressed and discouraged as she faced the beginning of a two-week stretch of night duty. How can a person write about being a burlap bag and not go ahead and be one at first opportunity? Hospitality can happen on the phone. We talked and then we prayed together for each other. There we were, both plants and burlap bags.

We need to do the Word of God. As we see ourselves as plants and burlap bags we will be fruitful. In Second Peter 1:5–8 we are told to “add to your faith, virtue; and to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity.” By doing these things we can avoid a shriveled harvest.

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