November 15, 2012
“Still
another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say
goodbye to my family.’ Jesus replied, ‘No one who puts his hand to the plow and
looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.’”
Luke
9: 61-62
I have never been a farmer. In fact,
the closest I ever came was a little twenty by twenty foot raised garden I once
built in the backyard of one of my houses. And I haven’t known many farmers
either. But the ones that I have known are not the kind of men to just sit
around and drink beer. They are also not the kind of men who have a whole lot
of wealth, or worries – aside from the conditions that provide their crops a
decent chance of survival.
Most of the farmers I have known have
been the kind of men that do not lack in character. They rise early, and work
diligently through the day, knowing that the fruit of their labor is almost
always directly proportionate to the amount of work they put in. And they know
work. I think eight hours a day in an air-conditioned space is difficult.
I watched a man harvest a couple dozen
acres of corn one afternoon, using a modern combine, careful with every turn to
capture every last row. He stopped the machine, interested in why our film crew
was capturing footage of him. Even with an enclosed space and glass windows the
man was covered in sweat and dust. In shaking his hand, I could feel callouses
and see dirt that had all but become a part of him. Harvesting is just one part
of the job. His favorite, he said with a smile. Because harvesting means money.
But what about plowing?
While my garden was tiny, there was
always a starting point each spring when I would head back outside after the
mild Florida winter and begin the process of deciding what seeds I wanted to
plant and where. That was always fun, picturing the produce at the end of the
growing season. What wasn’t fun was taking the ho and shovel and breaking the
dirt that had sat for months unattended, clumping together with time into solid
nuggets of sometimes impenetrable rock. Even if the soil was somewhat loose, it
still had to be broken and moved and stacked in rows before the first seed was
ever sown.
Those first days were always the most
difficult, when the plowing was done, and sometimes the only thing that got me
through the sunburned backs and dehydration was the thought that somewhere down
the road I would have the chance of eating cucumbers and squash and zucchini
and peppers and onions and so much more fresh from my own garden.
Yet this was a small garden, manageable
by hand.
I picture the farmer Jesus references,
more calloused and dirty and rough than I would ever be in my little garden,
making the decision whether to begin the task of plowing. He probably had an ox
or a mule, and acres of land to tend. He probably didn’t carry much water on
him, or have the shelter of much more than a piece of cloth over his forehead
to protect him from the sun and wind. He certainly didn’t have air condition,
or a seat to rest upon. His work was hard, but necessary if he was going to
eat.
I imagine the people that Jesus was
speaking to, on the side of the road as he made His was toward Jerusalem, knew
a little more about farming that I do. They probably knew how difficult it was
to steer an ox once it made headway, and how much work must be done by hand to
prepare a field for seed. They probably had some idea of how much work would be
required, once the process was begun, in order to see it to the end. I’m sure
most of these people didn’t have stashes of fruits and vegetables in their
homes, and they certainly didn’t have the local grocery store to buy
out-of-season fruit from at any time of the year. These people were rugged,
living off the land. And when Jesus made this comment, I imagine it was
completely disheartening to many.
There is a cost to putting one’s hand
to the plow, and to seeing the difficult job done to the end. In addition to
patience and diligence, the physical strains and pains, and the fact that it
was simply a difficult task that would take time and energy away from other
more desirable activities, there is also the fact that plowing was only the
first step of a process that guaranteed no rewards. It was not as though
plowing a field would produce a harvest immediately. Seeds would be have to be
spread, watered, nurtured. Weeds would have to be removed. Time would pass
between the plow and the harvest, and if one began the task of plowing, they
must surely know that there were no promises of success. But the task would
have to be done by someone, if anyone was to reap.
Fortunately, for most of us, Jesus says
it is only if we desire to be of service in the kingdom of God that we must be
prepared to see the whole process through. For most of us, we can hop up and
down with the plow and consider what it means to begin the task of plowing the
field, of laying the groundwork, and then we can hand the actual work off to
someone else. For most of us, we can look back after a little while and say,
you know what, this isn’t for me and I’m going to do something else until its
time to harvest or, better yet, to eat.
But for some of us, there is a burning
sensation in our hearts that flows down to our hands as we grab the oxen reins
and hold the plow in hand. We look at those we love – the ones we know we will
serve in setting up the harvest – and we think about those we will never know
who will benefit from our efforts. And then we decide, do I have what it takes
to see this through?
So, as I look at my hand now upon the
plow, I think back to a few days ago – a few weeks ago – a few years ago – and
I count the cost. I used to be content to sow or to reap. I used to be content
to simply do something else until it was time to eat.
But now, well, things have changed for
me…
Friends, my hand is on the plow, and I
have decided on this day that I am going to serve the kingdom of God. Sometimes
I don’t know what I am supposed to look forward to, but I do know that I no longer
desire to look back… I desire to work hard, to toil, to invest myself in this
field because I know that neither this life nor the next is about me.
So, a new phase in my journey begins,
and I wonder, will I see you alongside next to me in the field, plow in hand,
head aimed forward, building the kingdom…
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