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Jesus often used settings and images familiar to his listeners in an effort to apply his teachings directly to their lives.
The parable of the sower and the seed (see Matthew 13:3-9, 18-23) depicts everyday farm life in first-century Palestine. When Jesus explained the parable to the disciples, he said that the soil represented the varying degrees of openness we all have to the gospel message.
In the parable, the first group hears the word but doesn’t understand or fully accept it (see Matthew 13:19). The second group understands but cannot stand up to the challenges of persecution or suffering (see 13:20-21). The third group hears and accepts the word but gets distracted by the world (see 13:22). The final group—the believers—hears the word, understands it, and responds to it (see 13:23).
When we first come to faith in Jesus, we begin as “infants in Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:1) who—over time—may achieve maturity. This progression from infancy to maturity does not…
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A few short weeks ago, the earth felt young.
Fresh earth, fertile ground.
Waiting for seed and water.
As one with God, a hungry soul.
Yearning for nourishment to grow.
Weary, but persistent hands,
toiling with rock and weeds.
Sifting the refuse for the sacred and the clean.
Rain, then sun and warmth prevailed.
In a natural mix of God’s favor,
our fields began to grow and prosper, then bloom.
In summer sun it glistened green and
bristled with fruit.
But now the greens, yellow and brown,
voice their brittle cries in autumn breezes.
Man’s machines rattle and hum and harvests
earths gentle fruit.
The chaff and stalk left to lie as Gods good soldiers.
Wind born, the dust rises then settles
in the evening dusk.
Fragments of summer green, now brown.
The result of seasons change.
Dark and gray the sky turns cold and eases
my soul to hope in faith.
A golden harvest, a harvest of souls.
Our Lord does speak and call.
Like faithful pilgrims we answer.
We pick up and follow the master gleaner
where prayer finds us thankful
and our harvest baskets full.
http://rose-eldcrossing.blogspot.com/
ACROSS THESE FIELDS
Harvest skies I welcome
Where blue meets gold and yellow
And breeze metallic shivering
Where in our youth they would tumble and
Crisp Beneath our footfall
Where wind and breeze would collect and coral
And mornings damp frost made silence
Their leafy bodies broke and snapped and dust they became
Across these fields, Harvest grows nigh
Across these fields a whisper begins to stir and blow
A voice within begins to rise like a tide
And calls the harvesters to reap
Like the laborers at mid day we are called
Across these fields where my flesh and bones will
Whither and crumble and dry
Scattered across rolling Plaines
A breath of God hence it came
I know it’s youth can not last
It must end and carry on in a new and fragile way
But welcome this, this breeze of change
This guest come calling my soul
This day is short
From season to season, harvest to harvest
A lifetime to us is but a moment to God
A breath of breeze, of withering blossoms,
dreams never fulfilled
Happy the sower, for this seed fell upon fertile ground
Happy those called to reap this bounty
This parcel of eternity on earth
For God shows us the good earth, the
fertile plots, He sows his word
These fields soon grow silent and dormant
No life, they fall asleep as though never to wake
Harvest moon glow creates shadows and hills
And curves, flattening the color of grey.
We’ll glean these fields of fruitful pilgrimage
We’ll find our place in paradise when called
God’s word nestled beneath the fallen foliage
Where only a patient and prayerful moment
Breaks them free and flutter amidst a few chosen
A haze of souls carried aloft
Across these fields, an open expanse
Ly’s peaceful and dormant.
The harvest complete and beyond eternity
http://rose-eldcrossing.blogspot.com/