Rest looks like stewardship. Consider a garden—a raised bed right outside your kitchen window, perhaps. The Master Gardener has charged you to plant it with seeds, to cultivate the soil, to tend to the plants and help them to flourish. He did not throw some seeds at you and tell you that you were responsible for the miracle of turning them to ripe, plump vegetables. He placed the seeds into your palm, patted your fist lovingly, and asked you to tend them well. To steward them. To help them grow. Remember your place, then. You cannot make the plants grow or bear fruit. You can only plant the
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