The soil, still wearing winter’s crust, almost taunts the farmer–daring him to unleash the toothed blade.
Greeting the day before the moon is veiled beyond earth’s ridge, the man drops the tool behind his machine and tills narrow ditches in a quilt-like pattern–overturning dead, useless roots. The untouched soil lifts its face toward the sun, revealing the beauty of burnt sienna enriched by a year of rest.
He releases the promise of a new crop to nestle among the folds of freshly turned ground; miniature capsules of gold contained until nature beckons life from within.
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These are the fallow crops dotting the rugged terrain of the Montana prairie. Cared for and tended, they will yield shimmering crops of wheat. But those who refuse to allow the land a season of Sabbath see a diminished return season by season. The ground, stripped of its nutrients, fails to produce in abundance.
Others allow wild grasses to infest their fields. Only distinguished from wheat at maturity, rye mimics the favored crop of the eastern plains. Its stalk bends playfully in the hot, western wind as if jeering at passersby. Who will bend low enough to pluck me from my roots?
But there is no other way to remove the weed before its imposter seedlings spill from their casings and contaminate next year’s yield. The farmer must grasp the plant at its base; his fingers soiled by labor.
In the same way, the problems and distractions of this world can easily choke out our own spiritual growth.
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When I forget to rest in Him, my spirit is as dry and dusty as over-farmed acreage. I thirst but there is no relief and the high winds that race across the landscape toss me around as easily as Russian thistle.
If I fail to cultivate the soil of my heart with worship and Biblical study, the unwelcome invaders of worry, fear, and anxiety mark my life. Only in allowing the Master gardener daily access to my inner self am I rid of what must remain rooted out.
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Can you relate? Do you, too, need the loving hand of the winnowing Father to separate the plenty from the imperfect?
Some days, the unwelcome weeds stand tall–their presence dripping with possibility and the potential to infect my thoughts and actions. To invade the way I interact with my husband and children. To send anti-truth tendrils into the work God has for me to do.
At times I remain hard and unchanged, unwilling to invite the freshness of God’s word to penetrate my heart and foster newness within. But like a well-maintained field that is harrowed and then remains fallow for a time, the Planter remains faithful to His work.
The seeds are sown. The noxious plants removed. And slowly, meticulously I am being readied for the day of harvest.
Peace and grace,
Tammy
I often linkup with the following wonderful bloggers.

Mondays   InstaEncouragements/ Mandy and Michele, Kingdom Bloggers,

Tuesdays RaRa Linkup /GraceFull Tuesday / Tell His Story/Anchored Abode,

Wednesdays   Worth Beyond Rubies, Recharge Wednesday / Welcome Wednesday /LetsHave Coffee/

Thursdays Heart Encouragement  /  Tune In Thursday  /Salt and Light /  Five Minute Friday

Friday Faith on Fire, Blogger Voices Network, Grace and Truth Linkup