My veggie garden is a bit of a disaster this year.

Between the weather, ministry, and life in general, I got a much later start than usual. Eventually I managed to get my normal lineup in the ground—tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, cucumbers, and green beans—but everything felt rushed, and ever since then, the garden has shown it.

This year I also tried something new.

Jim Paul and I often compare notes about our gardens. Early this spring he started several flats of onions from seed and had extras, so he gave me a tray. I’ve never really grown onions before. Usually I just stick a few onion sets in the ground for green onions and call it good.

One thing I’ve often noticed around Lancaster County is that vegetable farmers almost always grow onions in early spring on raised beds covered with long strips of black plastic. The onions poke through little holes while the plastic keeps everything else covered.

I always assumed it was to conserve moisture or maybe warm the soil a bit. Since I didn’t have the plastic—and honestly didn’t want the extra work, especially being so late in the season—I planted mine in ordinary garden rows and figured they’d do just fine.

Well… last weekend reality caught up with me.

Like I mentioned before, the garden has been a bit neglected this year. Truth be told, after Justin and Maria’s wedding and then a week up at my dad’s cabin, the weeds had almost completely taken over. I finally reached the point where I had two choices: spend an afternoon weeding or just plow the whole thing under, scatter some grass seed, and pretend gardening had never happened.

So last Saturday Pam graciously joined me, and together we tackled the jungle.

That’s when I discovered why those onion farmers use raised beds and plastic.

Every time I pulled a weed growing beside an onion, the weed’s root system grabbed hold of the onion and popped it out of the ground like a slice of toast from a toaster. Instead of removing one plant, I removed two. I spent half the afternoon trying to tuck onion plants back into the soil, hoping they’d survive. Standing there with dirt under my fingernails, I laughed to myself.

“So that’s why they do it.”

You don’t know what you don’t know.

I’ve found that’s true far beyond the garden.

There are plenty of things God asks us to do that don’t always make sense in the moment. Forgive someone who hurt you. Give generously. Confess your sin. Pursue humility. Gather faithfully with God’s people. Steer clear of temptation. Pray even when heaven seems quiet. At first they can feel unnecessary, inconvenient, or even counterintuitive.

Then life has a way of pulling at our roots.

It’s often only after we’ve experienced disappointment, temptation, conflict, or failure that we begin to appreciate the wisdom God built into His design all along. Experience has a way of teaching us why our Father told us to do something in the first place.

The psalmist reminds us,

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

God’s commands aren’t arbitrary rules designed to make life harder. They’re the loving instructions of a Father who already knows what we have yet to learn.

The older I get, the more often I find myself saying, “Now I get it.”

Whether it’s in marriage, parenting, ministry, friendships—or even growing onions—God keeps reminding me that His wisdom is most always several steps ahead of mine. The challenge of faith is learning to trust Him before experience explains why.

Maybe next year, if Jim offers me onions again, I’ll buy the plastic. More importantly, I hope I remain teachable enough to trust God’s wisdom even when I don’t yet understand His reasons. After all, the One who designed life usually knows a thing or two that I don’t.

As Solomon wrote,

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

And what a comforting promise from God Himself:

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” (Psalm 32:8)