The pond water runs green and soft. Bull frogs sing refrains that blend with the crickets’ symphony and echo across the flat land.
The plow dug furrows this week. Deep, dark, black earth turned skyward. Sod busted and green left to turn brown. Roots tore and dragged, beaten and broken.
In the upturned dirt, tiny pieces of corn will be planted. Sun will shine. Rain will fall. Seeds break open, all that is dead will fall away and life will triumph, again.
It’s so hard when the plow hits the soil of our hearts.
When a piece of life is used to work the ground of our souls—tearing, dragging, exposing our darkness, leaving us for dead—its easy to get caught up in the pain part. It’s easy to fail to see the future glory.
Here’s a farmers truth: seeds planted on unplowed ground will never produce a harvest.
They will lay forever dead, choked out by weeds and lack of depth.
Tear apart the ground?
Let everything die away?
Harvest is coming. A little sun, a little rain and life will triumph, again.
I don’t know your death.
I don’t know your plow.
I don’t know your seeds.
But I do know my God.
In my life He tore apart my dirt with the plow of infertility. All my roots were ripped to bits. The things I thought I needed to survive were broken and left for dead.
But I pray, Oh, how I pray, that the seeds He planted, grace, empathy, beauty, redemption, hope, JOY—
Will multiply and overflow and feed nations.
What about you? What is your prayer for the pain in your life?