Bless These Hives

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This may sound strange, but these days, I pray often for honeybees.

Jared is a beekeeper and a businessman, so much of his success lies in the hives tucked in the corner of his property—in their brood, their comb, and the flow of their nectar in spring. When I said “yes” to dating him, I was also saying “yes” to his bees, which take work, risk, and, I’ve learned, prayer. The life of the hive depends on the life of the queen, who takes flight in spring and must return mated. It’s a perilous journey, as there are hawks and dragonflies and strong winds that can deter her. If she doesn’t return, the colony will be left without a queen, and a colony that remains queenless is a doomed one. 

This spring has been a stormy one for Jared’s colonies, when the flights of the queen bees have often been their last. Without realizing it, I’ve found myself praying things I’ve never prayed before: Lord, let the queens return. Protect them from dragonflies and storms. Help the hives flourish. 

In other words, Establish the work of our hands, O Lord. 

There was a time in my life when I might have found all this a bit unscriptural—to pray for bees, I mean. Shouldn’t I rather be praying for wisdom? For strength? For satisfaction and joy in Christ Jesus? Paul always seemed to be praying these sweeping, spiritual blessings over the churches he loved:

“…That according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith…” (Eph. 3:16-17).

But in addition to strength, power, and faith, Paul also prayed for funds to support his ministry, and a place to stay while he was in Colossae (Phil. 4:18, Philemon 22). Hannah prayed for a baby. Samuel prayed for rain. Blessings from God are not always unseen realities in the heavenly realm; sometimes, they’re the food and funds our bodies need to live on earth. In Christ, we already have “every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places,” but sometimes, he fills our barns and fields, too (Prov. 3:9-10). If he chooses, he may bless our homes, our pantries, our gardens, our labors, our livestock, our hives. 

I have a friend who cleans beautiful, old churches in the hill country of Wales. I remember her writing and telling me that, as she wiped down the pews during the week, she liked to pray over the folks who would sit there that Sunday. Whether she realized it or not, she was consecrating the wood pews the way the priests consecrated the tabernacle. There was nothing special about the tabernacle’s tent covering made of goatskins, or the basins, tables, and utensils inside—that is, until the glory of the Lord came into the place, and every last hook and beam became sacred for the praise of his holy name.

Christ’s atoning blood consecrates the work of our hands, whatever that work may be. That isn’t to say the work will always be fruitful; there may be no grapes on the vine nor cattle in the stall, yet even then, we can rejoice in the surpassing blessing of Christ (Hab. 3:17-18).

But there are also seasons like this spring, when we prayed for the bees and the Lord heard. After all our supplications and intercessions, Jared and I walked out to the hives one afternoon in May. As he slid out each frame, I held my breath.

“There she is,” he said when he saw the queen, and I breathed again.

The queens had returned mated, the colonies hummed in their honeymaking, and I gave thanks to the God who answers simple benedictions over ordinary things:

O Lord, bless these pews.

Bless this home.

Bless these hallways.

Bless this car.

Bless this table.

Bless this garden.

Bless these hives. 

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“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
and establish the work of our hands upon us;
yes, establish the work of our hands!”
~ Psalm 90:17

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