I paused by my favorite field on my bike ride this morning. It’s hot for early June, and unless I was riding into the wind, the heat and humidity were relentless. I stopped by the field, though, to take a swig of water and snap a picture. Sweat covered every inch of my skin, but I marveled at the fallow ground before me. How different this field looked today compared to last fall when I rode this route with my family.
Today the ground is broken, muddy, empty. It doesn’t look like much honestly. I can’t tell if the farmers are going to plant the field or rest it this year. The earth looks like maybe it’s been turned recently. I like to guess what it will be: cotton, soybeans, corn? Last year it was sorghum, and crop rotation will turn the field to a different crop this year.
I’m not a farmer—I’m not even a gardener. I have exactly three houseplants, and it’s mostly touch-and-go with them.
But I’m an observer, and I live in a town flanked by farmland as far as the eye can see. I watch the metamorphosis of the fields as I bike or run or walk throughout the spring, summer, and fall. The change is slow if you ride or run by the fields every day. You barely notice anything different. But as the days turn into weeks and months, the fields move from fallow, to plowed, to planted, to spouted, to growing, growing, grown. From plow to harvest, patient work is the farmers’ job. Patient work. Farmers look to the sky for rain, irrigate all the more when it’s dry, and while they work, they wait.
James tells us to think like farmers when it comes to perseverance and steadfastness.
“Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand” (James 5:7-8).
Our spiritual growth is a lot like farming. I think about sanctification a lot as I bike past the cotton fields and run by the soybeans. When I stopped to take a picture this morning of the barren field that boasted a healthy sorghum crop last fall, I thought about all the work and waiting that went into its harvest. The farmers plowed, planted, and waited. They didn’t sit around hoping for a crop to materialize out of thin air. Neither did they rely on their own ability to force a seed to become a harvest. They worked and they waited.
It’s the same with spiritual growth. We don’t sit on our hands hoping we’ll grow in the faith. Neither do we work, work, work and think we are the ones who make growth happen. Instead, we invest in our spiritual growth by plowing it with prayer, irrigating it with the Word, and leaning on the Church to help us defend it from the thorniness of sin. And we do so with the knowledge that God is at work in our hearts, bringing about a harvest in His strength and time.
Sometimes we look at the fields in our hearts and wonder how God can pull anything good from the broken ground. We think we should be farther along, we fear we have no business expecting a crop with so little investment, we wonder if God cares about our daily labors to know and love Him more. Here’s the beautiful truth: God is invested in your spiritual growth, and when we do the patient work of the farmer, He is pleased to bring about growth. Because He is faithful and will finish what He started.
It’s hard to believe these two pictures were taken of the same field, right? I’m sure the farmers feel the weight of the empty land in early spring. They know they’re looking at a lot of investment and waiting in their future crops, and that it takes time for seeds to become fruit. It takes time.
When it comes to your spiritual growth, think like a farmer. Establish your hearts. Wait patiently. Do the good work of feeding your faithfulness, and know this: the God who turns seeds into crops is faithfully making you more like Jesus.
When it comes to your spiritual growth, think like a farmer. The God who turns seeds into crops is faithfully making you more like Jesus. Share on X
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
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