The soil was hard and cold. Rocks were scattered everywhere. It was a worthless field.
It had to be plowed. The earth needed to be turned so the seed could be planted so the harvest could be plentiful.
A horse, harnessed to the plow, begins to pull. Nothing but lines drawn in the dust happens. The ground. The ground is too cold. To rocky. It will never happen.
On and on the horse pulls, still, the plow refuses to do more than kick up dust. It must be done. Giving up is not an option.
A cold, steady rain begins.
Adding misery to the process. The time has come to give up. How can one press on? Is it not too much? The soil is too hard, the rocks are too many, the air is too cold, and now, rain. Bloody from the hard work, worn, and tired – is it even worth it? Is the possible harvest worth it?
Then, the plow sinks into the mud. The blades easily turn the soil, revealing the richness underneath. How easy is it now? The work is still hard, but the farmer and the horse are no longer feeling the full pressure of the plow; the once hard, cold, rocky ground is feeling the steel cut through it. Hope arises. Hope settles. Joy abounds.
In our life, there are fields to be plowed. We may have the greatest horse, the best plow, and the strongest body, but our field may not be the best. It may be hard, cold and rocky. Others may laugh at the possibility of a harvest. As we begin, we may get worn – the hope may begin to dwindle. Then, the rain comes. We cry out “Really? Rain? It’s hard enough as it is, and now the rain?” But, the rain is the one thing we need to loosen the tough soil of our field. Suddenly the pressure is relieved. The plowing still has to be done, but the pressure is on the soil, not our shoulders.
Ecclesiastes11:4 He who watches the wind will not sow and he who looks at the clouds will not reap. 5 Just as you do not know [c]the path of the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the [d]pregnant woman, so you do not know the activity of God who makes all things.