A Disappointing Harvest

God’s prophet, Haggai, asked his fellow-Jews to reflect on their puny harvest:  

You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it. (1:5f)

Why were these frustrated people plagued by the proverbial “hole in the pocket?” God explained: "What you brought home, I blew away. Why? Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house." (1:9f). As the Jews returned from captivity in Babylon (6^th century B.C.) and began the rugged task of rebuilding their shattered nation, they became consumed with their own homes. They had gone beyond providing shelter—they now lived in “paneled houses” while God's house lay unfinished and unusable. As a result of this lengthy neglect of their spiritual duties, God sent a bitter harvest as a warning.

These procrastinators, though, were unmoved: "the time has not yet come." How often have we with puckered lips told God, "The time has not yet come"? We taste the bitter fruit of a depressed child but say, "I know he needs more of my time, Lord, but I've got this new job." Or we taste the unripe fruit of a chilled heart toward God and say, "Lord, I know I have been ignoring you, but I’ll join a small group Bible study when the kids return to school.” Or we taste the pungent fruit of marital strife but promise to seek help when our house remodeling is complete.

As I have reflected on my recent gardening, I have "repented" of my deficient soil—I need to fortify my soil through better composting. It is easy to be committed to the concept of composting. It is not easy to be committed to the chore of composting—hauling manure, turning the pile, adding grass and leaves, watering. There are no quick fixes for my soil—or my soul. Repentance brings my life out of winter. But I won’t reap a harvest unless I commit to the timeless, daily cycles of the farmer. When Israel strayed, God's message was "break up . . . sow . . . reap." No one reaps a bountiful life by putting off today's work.

Measuring the Harvest

I coached my youngest son's traveling soccer team for seven years. Though the team had few elite athletes, their hard work had enabled them to compete with many elite teams. As we approached our very last tournament, I envisioned a storybook ending. The two best teams were in the other bracket and we were the best in our bracket. I dreamed about us playing in, and winning, the championship game. What a harvest after all the years of disciplined work!

The first team we played had never beaten us. In the closing minute of the game, the out-of-shape referee (who was forty yards out of position) whistled us for a foul, awarding them a penalty kick—which they made. The referee clearly made the wrong call, enabling that team to tie us 1-1. I was very upset, yelling repeatedly at the referee: "That's the worst call I have ever seen!

In our second game, we opened strong, leading 2-0 at half. But questionable officiating and sloppy play led to a 3-2 loss. On one occasion, I angrily slammed my hat to the ground and stomped on it to protest a call. (A grown man stomping on his own hat?!) My fantasy of a championship had evaporated. During our final game we were clobbering the next best team in our division 4-0 at half. It was probably the best soccer the boys had ever played. I thought: "Well, at least we'll go out on a high note." But the second half was a complete disaster. We were badly outplayed and only a phenomenal stop by our goalie preserved a 4-4 tie. The game ended with a fistfight—a first for my team. As I went home that evening I was mostly disappointed in myself. Had my temper fueled their fists? The fruit in my life was sour that day.

Once again my garden's harvest is instructive. Though I have been gardening for several decades, I still mess up. My inattention might cause me to lose some seedlings during a hot spell. Or I might overlook an insect invasion. Does this mean I should list my garden tools on e-bay?  No. I must look at my garden—and my life!—more panoramically. Before I worked myself into to funk over my coaching failure, I reflected on the past seven years. I had grown in my ability to love and lead young men, to control my volatile emotions, to trust God to give the boys the experiences they needed.

As a Christian I want a measure of my walk with God—the harvest provides that measure. My garden is to be increasingly filled with the Spirit-grown fruit of love, joy, peace, and patience. When Paul wrote to the Thessalonians he commended them: "Now about brotherly love we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other." But he urged them "to do so more and more." God looks for progress, not perfection.

Harvest Math, 2

The multiplying principle of the harvest (see previous post) applies in unwanted ways also. When Israel was running from God, Hosea warned: "Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind." (Hos.8:7). Hosea warned that if they planted the seeds of wind, they would reap a tornado of trouble.

Many don't recognize their empty sowing until the whirlwind knocks them to the ground. As Solomon regularly traveled by a lazy neighbor's field, he observed that:

 the ground was covered with weeds,

 and the stone wall was in ruins.
I applied my heart to what I observed
  and learned a lesson from what I saw;
A little sleep, a little slumber,
  a little folding of the hands to rest
and poverty will come on you like a bandit
  and scarcity like an armed man. (Prov.24:32f)

How did this lazy farmer get mugged by poverty? It happened so gradually—“a little...a little...a little"—that he never saw the bandit coming. When one stone fell from his stone wall, he thought, "I'll get to that tomorrow." When the second one fell out, he thought, "I'll put that one back when I repair the first one." When the third one fell out, he stopped making promises to himself. His large problem (poverty) was built by small choices (not replacing fallen stones.)

Early in my Christian life I feared that I might be seized by temptation and take a major tumble. But Solomon reminds us that disasters are created inch by inch by inch—we creep rather than leap into major sin. I might commit adultery after I harbor bitterness toward my wife, after I regularly flirt with a co-worker, after I bare my intimate thoughts to that other woman, after I choose to have a “business lunch” with her. The wall falls down a stone at a time. If I don't repair the small breakdowns, I may experience a complete collapse.

 
But if Solomon's farmer repents of his slothful ways, can his wall be rebuilt? Maybe not. Several years ago Frank (not his real name) came to live with us after his wife booted him out of their home. One evening at dinner, I asked Frank to explain to my sons why he was living in our home. As he talked, the pain and loneliness overcame him. Bowing his head and weeping, he cried: "My sin! My sin! I may never enjoy a family meal like this because I haven't been walking with God." Frank was right. His wife divorced him and the unity of his family was forever shattered. Though Frank's repentance helped him become a stable and godly influence for his kids, his wall could never be entirely rebuilt. We can control our choices, but not our consequences.

The Delayed Harvest

One of the surest principles of the harvest is its delay. I can't pick beans the day after I sow bean seeds. My newly planted asparagus roots won't produce a significant crop for two or three years. Our sapling oak trees will provide a canopy of shade for our great-grandchildren’s play!

It is the slow, steady growth of trees that most resembles God's work—though the wicked spring up like grass, the righteous will flourish like a palm tree and will become oaks of righteousness. (Ps.92) One of the delightful oaks that has been growing in my life is the relationships that I enjoy with my three adult sons and their families. We share holidays and meals, gardening and golf, work and worship. What fed this delightful growth? It was painstakingly nurtured ring by ring and inch-by-inch.

• Ring #1: Playing most of my golf with my young sons rather than my fellow golf addicts. (By the second hole they were hot, frustrated, and ready to dash to the swimming pool.)
• Ring #2: Working with my boys in a small lawn care business. (I could have earned more money and suffered less grief—“Dad, do we have to mow today? It's too hot!"—if I had worked on my own.)
• Ring #3: Establishing my office at home. (I could have written several more books if I had located my office away from their frequent interruptions.)
• Ring #4:  Coaching my sons' athletic teams. (Doesn't everyone love a task that involves griping parents, incompetent  referees, and rowdy children?!) 
• Ring #5: Vacationing as a family. (I would have preferred more romantic get-aways with my wife!)

Parenting makes remarkable demands but has few instant rewards. My boys didn't slap me on the back and say, "Wow! You're sure a great dad to give up your Saturday golf game to play golf with us." None of my golfing friends, who watched my handicap balloon to an eight from a two, said, "I think it's great to see a father put his kids first." So why did I persevere? Because I was confident that planting those choice seeds would one day produce a joyful harvest.

Harvest Math

I sow one corn seed—I reap hundreds of corn seeds. I sow a packet of tiny lettuce seeds—I reap enough lettuce to feed my Sioux Falls relatives (and the Sioux Falls relatives of Peter Rabbit!) Similarly, a Flemish scientist planted a sapling willow tree in 200 pounds of soil. For the next five years he added only water to the soil. At the end of the experiment he weighed the tree (169 pounds) and the soil (199 pounds, 14 oz.). 2 ounces of soil had produced 169 pounds of tree!  

Jesus took his disciples’ meager plantings and produced an astonishing crop, feeding 5000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish. When everyone had eaten their fill, the disciples gathered 12 baskets of leftovers! (One basket for each of his “we-don’t-have-enough-to-feed-them” disciples?) 

I have seen God repeatedly produce the same geometric explosion in my students. If God wasn’t involved in my classes, my highest praise might be: "Nice class." Or, "A pleasant way to spend Saturday mornings." But one woman wrote:

 

My marriage has been hanging by a thread. This course came at such a crucial time. It gave me the strength to hang on to this marriage by looking to His word. I have found verses that spoke to me, giving me direction when I felt lost.  

She attended a marriage and family class? No. It was Introduction to the Bible! When God wants to transform a life he isn't limited by the syllabus! Another student who was "quite nervous" about taking a theology class because of his lack of Biblical knowledge, wrote:  

I had never attempted to read and truly understand the Bible. Yet, after diving heart first into it, I found that what I had feared was not to be found. Not only did I comprehend the readings, but more importantly, I was able to apply the concepts in my life. This is so amazing to me! Something that was written thousands of years before my time remains so true to life today. I feel as if there is a whole new world to discover.

 

And many of these students quickly become seed-planters themselves: "I must find a church and get my children involved in Sunday School. I would even like to be a Sunday School teacher! (Boy, I never thought I'd say that!) I have read some Bible verses to my family and I find that it is a wonderful feeling to spread God's word." 

When the apostle Paul found people taking sides between him and Apollos, he bristled: What after all is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe . . . I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. (I Cor.3:5-7) The marvel of my students’ growth has little to do with the small seeds that I plant. It is humbling, and often exhilarating, to watch God multiply my 2 ounces of effort into 169 pounds of heavenly fruit. I love God's math!  

What seeds is God asking you to plant? Beginning a morning Bible study with co-workers? Reaching out to an aging, bitter neighbor? Joining a mission trip to an Indian reservation? Take a risk! Watch the all-powerful Mathema-tician work His wonders!

 

Harvesting the Garden, Part 2

The Delayed Harvest

One of the surest principles of the harvest is its delay. I can't pick beans the day after I sow bean seeds. Newly planted asparagus roots won't produce a significant crop for two or three years. Our sapling oak trees will provide a canopy of shade for our great-grandchildren’s play!

It is the slow, steady growth of trees that most resembles God's work—though the wicked spring up like grass, the righteous will flourish like a palm tree and will become oaks of righteousness. (Ps.92) One of the delightful oaks that has been growing in my life is the relationship that I enjoy with my three adult sons and their families. We share holidays and meals, gardening and golf, work and worship. What fed this splendid growth? The growth of it was painstakingly nurtured ring by ring and inch-by-inch.

• Ring #1: Playing most of my golf with my young sons rather than my friends. (By the second hole they were hot, frustrated, and ready to dash to the swimming pool.)
• Ring #2: Working with my boys in a small lawn care business. (I could have earned more money and suffered less grief—“Dad, do we have to mow today? It's too hot!"—if I had worked on my own.)
• Ring #3: Establishing my office at home. (I could have written several more books if I had located my office away from their frequent interruptions.)
• Ring #4:  Coaching my sons' athletic teams. (Doesn't everyone love a task that involves griping parents, incompetent  referees, and rowdy children?!)
• Ring #5: Vacationing as a family. (I would have preferred more romantic get-aways with my wife!)

Parenting makes remarkable demands but has few instant rewards. My boys didn't slap me on the back and say, "Wow! You're sure a great dad to give up your Saturday golf game to play golf with us." None of my golfing friends, who watched my handicap balloon to an eight from a two, said, "I think it's great to see a father put his kids first." So why did I persevere? Because I was confident that planting those choice seeds would one day produce a delightful harvest.

Harvesting the Garden

My dad was a zealous gardener—and his kids and grandkids were his co-gardeners. His half-acre garden was gloriously, phenomenally productive. From mid-summer to late fall, we harvested bags brimming with sweet peas, string beans and broccoli, gunnysacks stuffed with sweet corn, squash and potatoes, thirty-pound fruit boxes spilling over with tomatoes, beets and carrots; a pickup jammed with pumpkins, and on and on. Though dad could keep pace with most garden work, the harvest overwhelmed him. Every year—to the dismay of my depression-raised dad—a sizeable amount of produce went unharvested. One day as we were leaving the farm with a carload of vegetables, dad whined: "When are you going to get back and pick the rest of those beans? They're getting old.” A bit peeved, I teased: "What was that you said? `Thanks for helping?'" Dad heartily agreed with Jesus: The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few!

Even Mom would get frustrated with the abundance—she had the task of cleaning and storing them. Though I had never heard my mom cuss, one day after Dad unloaded another pile of produce, she protested, "Al, what am I going to do with all these damn vegetables?!" (Dad tried to solve the problem of abundance by buying two refrigerators for his garage and an extra refrigerator for each of his kids! But the problem wasn't solved until he discovered that our local soup kitchen would gladly take his excess produce.)

The harvest is one of the most tangible miracles in our world. Laura Simon explains:

You drop a seed in the dirt, water it, and wait for it to sprout. That's kind of magical, don't you think? I mean, here's a seed, a tiny fleck of matter, smaller, in some cases than the period that will end this sentence. But inside its insignificant little carcass are the makings of a five-foot-tall delphinium, say, with flowers so twinkling blue they'll make you suck in your breath.

 The harvest is breathtaking. Dad’s annual supply of seeds barely filled a shoebox. But the harvest couldn't be contained in the back end of a pickup—would a semi-trailer have been enough?!

The average ratio of harvested seeds to planted seeds in Biblical Palestine was about 8-1. When Jesus asserted that a fertile heart could produce a hundred, sixty, or thirty times what was sown, he envisioned a lavish productivity that would stun even my garden-wise father. God's goal is to make your life brim with marvelous fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. But it won’t happen until you humbly invite Him into your garden and ask Him to take charge.