From Cultivation to Resurrection

Christ doesn’t improve the old—He works in us to form something entirely new.

📚 Devotional Credit:

Days of Heaven Upon Earth by A.B. Simpson

📸 Photo Credit:

Image courtesy of Unsplash

Today’s passage opens a striking image from the Song of Songs: a garden locked, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed. This is not an image of barrenness or neglect, but of intentional care and intimacy. It speaks to the divine work of God within us—where He doesn’t simply leave us to ourselves, but cultivates, tends, and reshapes the very soil of our souls. In Christ, we are not wild wastelands needing reform. We are a garden—a place of His delight, closed off from the noise of the world and reserved for His presence alone.

But cultivation comes with disruption. Stones must be removed. Old roots have to be pulled out. And perhaps the greatest obstacle is not our sin, but our striving to be better versions of ourselves. A.B. Simpson reminds us that the good we long for doesn’t grow from our nature—it must be birthed by God Himself. His life is not an upgrade of the old but the utter replacement of it. Christ isn’t interested in improving Adam. He came to crucify Adam and resurrect something entirely new—His life in us.

And so we learn a lesson that runs against every instinct of the flesh: real life comes through real death. But not a death we inflict upon ourselves. This isn’t about spiritual performance or manufactured surrender. It’s a yielding. A trusting. A consenting to the loving Gardener who knows exactly where the roots of self must be dug up.

When we finally stop trying to produce life from self and instead yield to the One who is life, something beautiful happens: Christ, our Alpha and Omega, becomes not only the beginning of our story but the present moment and the ultimate end. We live—not by force or effort—but by His rising life within us.

📓 Personalized Journal Entry – Voice of the Holy Spirit:

You are Mine. Not a wilderness to be abandoned, but a garden I have sealed for Myself. I walk here in the cool of your surrendered heart, and I find joy—not because you are flawless, but because you are Mine.

I do not plant My life in the hard soil of self-effort. I do not water the weeds of performance. Instead, I have made you new. The old has passed. And where death once ruled, resurrection now rises. But for that resurrection to flourish, you must yield the tools of your self-improvement. Let Me remove what cannot bear fruit.

You do not need to die to self in your own strength. You only need to consent. I will do the deep work. I will uproot the hidden pride, the subtle fear, the buried shame. But I do it not to harm, but to heal. And from the broken ground, I will grow what is eternal.

Even your desire to live for Me—I give that. Even your longing to please Me—it is My Spirit stirring. So rest, beloved. Let Me tend what I have planted. Let Me prune what I have redeemed. For the life you now live, you live by faith in Me—the One who loved you and gave Myself for you.

Scripture References:
Song of Songs 4:12; Galatians 2:20; John 12:24-25; Romans 6:4-6; Colossians 3:3-4; 2 Corinthians 5:17; Ezekiel 36:26; Philippians 1:6; Hebrews 13:20-21

🌿 Real-Life Analogy:

Imagine kneading dough for fresh bread. At first, it’s a sticky, unshaped mass. But as you press and fold it repeatedly, the texture begins to change. The warmth of your hands activates something inside it. The leaven works through, and the dough begins to rise—not by force, but by the process of surrendering to the baker’s touch.

So it is with Christ in us. The old ingredients—the habits, the fears, the self-focus—are not improved but worked out entirely. And as we yield to the shaping of His Spirit, He forms something that rises in grace and brings nourishment to others.

Today, perhaps while preparing something ordinary—like brushing crumbs from a counter, folding a shirt, or starting your car—you can say, “Lord, I trust You to do the deep work in me. I yield to Your hands. Form in me what cannot come from me.” Whether you’re responding to a difficult conversation or approaching a task you dislike, He delights to express His risen life in you—even in that moment.

🙏 Prayer of Confidence:

Father, I thank You that I am not a project in progress, but a garden You’ve already claimed as Your own. You have enclosed me, filled me, and sealed me with Your Spirit. I no longer need to strive to make the old soil bear fruit. I rest in the truth that You have crucified the old and planted something entirely new.

I trust You to expose the roots of self and replace them with the life of Christ. Thank You for doing the pruning in love, and the planting in joy. I yield today—confident not in my resolve but in Your faithfulness to complete what You began. Let Your life rise in me today, as I walk in quiet trust and expectant joy.