It’s the way he’s sowing the seeds that grabs my attention, and makes me grab my camera.
So primitive. So ancient.
I watch, and shoot, and think of the parable (Mt 13:3-23)…
Some fell beside the way.
Some fell on stony ground.
Some fell among choking weeds.
And some fell onto, and into, good, receptive ground.
How can my soul bear fruit if my heart can’t readily receive God’s words? How can His words deep-root, if beneath its surface that heart is calloused hard or blocked with “fat” (Is 6:10 NIV [and fn], Is 6:10 ESV [fn])? How can any resulting growth survive if it falls amid choking thorns of fleshly desires and cares?
That man out there in the field takes but minutes to sow the small patch of reclaimed ground, where bad drainage had let water dig ditches and make ponding places, where tractor tires had to churn to get through, even in arid weather. Truly, just minutes for the sowing. And a few more for raking in the seed.
But how many days did he, and the farmer who seasonally hays the field, pour into ground-preparing! And with many-man-power machines. Ripping out brush, removing rocks, moving soil, leveling ground, plowing and discing and all. Day after full-long day.
I want to come closer, walk closer, with God. To do that I need to call on Him. Then, when He answers (which He will), I need to Listen. Truly listen. Listen to HEAR. Not just His words but His heart in His words. Not just to register His messages mentally or leap about with them emotionally, but to root them rich and deep within the me of me, to nurture and grow and produce an outcome worthy of the Sower. To have no noxious sinweeds rooted in, between me and Him.
It seems He’s done some plowing. Some digging up. Some yanking away.
I’ve felt the tearing out of huge rooted things I thought were good, but that now lie dying as heaped up refuse. I guess they were “thorns,” cares and worries and weeds of willful wishing after deceitful “wealth,” not necessarily the monetary kind.
I’ve felt the big yawning emptiness of holes that had looked well occupied by soil, but where rocks of personal hardness or potential stumbling stones had filled the space.
When I reconsider the concept of “I can’t but He can,” I realize His work on my will may be where my greatest need for Divine aid lies!
I chafe so sometimes under God’s cultivating action, not recognizing it for what it is. I fail to realize it’s for my blessing, that I desperately need it, for His planting in my life to prosper and grow glorious.
Lord, may I have a yielded heart, yielded to your soil preparation, that it might yield a crop worthy of Your love and grace and holiness.
“For those God foreknew He… conformed to the likeness of His Son…” (Rom 8:28-29).