By Matthew Piling

I grew up in farm country in Alberta, Canada. We weren’t farmers ourselves, but I spent enough time around farming to absorb some of its core lessons. One of the most important takeaways, especially in a region with a short growing season and harsh conditions outside of it, was this: you have to plant at the right time, and harvest at the right time.

That wisdom applies beautifully to the Law of Gestation. We often emphasize the importance of waiting—of not pulling up the seed before it’s had time to take root and grow. We understand the need to harvest at the right moment. But when it comes to our personal goals and dreams, I think we could do a better job applying that first critical principle: planting at the right time.

Every desire, just like every crop, has a gestation period. It takes a specific amount of time for an idea to develop into reality. But if you start the process too early—or too late—the outcome can be compromised. On the farm, if seeds are planted too early, they don’t get the warmth or sunlight they need. The seedlings are fragile and risk being destroyed by an unexpected frost. On the other hand, if planting happens too late, the growing season might not be long enough for the plant to bear fruit. Even the strongest stalks can be lost before reaching maturity.

Either way, it's a painful waste of energy, time, and hope.

Not all ideas have a long gestation period. Some spark and flourish quickly. But most of the big, important ones—the life-changing ones—need time. We’ve all seen someone apply for a job they weren’t quite ready for. One of two things usually happens: they don’t get the job and feel crushed, or they do get it and feel totally overwhelmed. Either outcome can lead them to question whether they were ever meant to succeed at all.

But when someone steps into a role at just the right time—when they’re prepared, and the opportunity has been divinely orchestrated—everything just clicks. Doors open, connections happen, and things begin to flow. It’s beautiful to watch. And even more beautiful to experience.

If we hold our ideas and desires up to God and ask for His guidance, He’ll help us know when it’s time to plant. And when He says, “Not yet,” that’s not a no—it’s a promise that the right moment will come.

When I first met my wife, I felt something unique immediately. It wasn’t infatuation. It was a deep sense of connection—comforting, familiar, and unlike anything I’d ever felt. We met at a social function and ended up talking for hours. I remember noticing two older women sitting nearby, glancing our way with warm smiles. I thought, They’re just sitting there watching us fall in love.

Still, there was no thunderclap confirmation that this was “the one.” Just a quiet, unmistakable peace.

A few weeks later, after dating and feeling more sure than ever, she shared with me that she wasn’t ready for marriage. She had been proposed to multiple times before, and those experiences had left her wary. In that moment, I had a choice: push forward out of fear of losing her, or hold the seed and trust the process.

Thankfully, I waited.

I didn’t let fear or impatience hijack the beauty of what was unfolding. I trusted that if she was the right one (and I knew she was), the time would come. And if not, something even better was being prepared. That trust allowed me to savor every stage of the relationship without anxious energy tainting it. And when the time did come, I was more certain than ever. Twenty-two years later, I’m still grateful I was patient in planting that seed.

What’s interesting about the important seeds we plant—especially the ones we plant in our minds—is that once they take root, they’re not going anywhere. We can neglect them or stop nourishing them, but we can’t unplant them. As Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, “A mind stretched by a new idea can never return to its original dimensions.”

So when we abandon an idea out of fear or impatience, it doesn’t disappear. It sits there in the soil of our mind, drawing on our energy, tugging at our focus. Left unattended, it can grow into frustration, regret, or insecurity. That’s why we have to be intentional about which ideas we plant—and once we plant them, we must be willing to tend to them with patience and trust.

Sometimes, that means holding the seed in our heart a little longer before we put it in the ground. Dreaming about it. Visualizing the harvest. Imagining what it will feel like to see it come to life. And when the spark comes—the divine prompting that now is the time—we act. As the plant grows, more sparks come: nudges about when to water, when to wait, when to prune or protect. The more we tune into those nudges, the more naturally we’ll move through the gestation process—and the less we’ll struggle with the waiting.

God, after all, is the Master Gardener. He holds the rhythms of the universe in His hands. He sees our dreams, hears our prayers, and knows the perfect timing for every seed.

Patience, then, isn’t really about waiting. It’s about trusting—trusting that He is working with us to bring about a harvest more abundant than we can imagine. When we work together with Him, the harvest is not only possible—it’s inevitable.

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