I see why gardening and farming metaphors are in the Bible and other great works of literature. I have been trying turn my two acres of pasture and weeds into a homestead. The stuff I learn in this endeavor is often instructive in many of areas of life.
There’s something that happens when I try to apply farming knowledge I’ve acquired by reading to my untamed pasture that’s kind of magical. I think the slow pace of gardening, the hours of sweat preparing and planting, sets you up for lessons that aren’t soon forgotten.
One afternoon this summer, after days of frantically breaking up soil and trying to pull sod and weeds out of it, I realized I wasn’t going to be “finished” with it any time soon. Like usual, I was in a hurry. I had been laboring under the belief that if I could just get part of my property ready in time, I could plant a large garden. I was intoxicated with the potential reward I could reap. My head was filled with visions of our field brimming with healthy, beautiful, organic produce that would provide the basis for many bountiful, delicious meals.
But my heart sank as the truth set in: At best, I was at the beginning of long process. It would take years of nurture to realize the potential our soil holds. And I was beginning to see why farming is a road less traveled.
The frenetic and seemingly boundless energy that had been driving in my avocation that I hoped could someday be my vocation me suddenly left. I pushed the rototiller in the shade and sat down. Heat waves danced off the field taunting me. I scooped up a handful of dirt, ran my thumb through it, trying to see if I actually have the strength, patience, passion and commitment that this kind of work requires. Should I move to nice old house in town, I wondered.
As I looked over the dried weeds, grass and countless rocks, I thought, “This soil is like my heart.” My field holds amazing latent potential to produce the cornucopia I envisioned, but it’s bound up under years of grass, weeds and boulders. Sound’s a lot like my heart. To realize the potential of my field, someone would have to breakup up the soil, clear out the weeds, grass and boulders, and continually add compost, lime, bone meal and whatever else it lacks. What a monumental, epic effort!
My heart, like my field, is brimming with potential, but most of it’s locked up under years of disappointment, lies and misunderstandings. To unlock it, someone would have to lovingly break it loose from its bonds, heal it and nurture it. I believe in God, but to see myself as a field and Him as The Good Farmer begins to give scope to the work of redemption.
Then I thought about my children, as I often do. For a time, I have a hand in “cultivating” their hearts. But somewhere along the way they take chare of their own lives, partnering with the Good Farmer in their own fields.
I like farming, or my version of it, because it feels right to take an active role in producing wholesome food for my family. And it’s fun, in a very deeply satisfying way. At it’s root, it’s love for my family and a general feeling of well-being that drives my efforts. And the Farmer that redeems peoples hearts, freeing them to flourish, loves his work in a way that dwarfs all others.
Here’s to the Good Farmer, whose passion and commitment completely overwhelms me.
Beautiful Will!