Last month, I preached a sermon about harvest. When I preach, I know that the concepts I share are from God and that they are not just for the audience but for me, so why was I shocked when I was immediately faced with the harvest.
In Matthew 9:35-38, when Jesus looked at His disciples and told them that the harvest was plentiful, but the laborers were few, He intimated something that most of us don’t get because we don’t understand what harvest time really is.
I am a city girl, born in one big city, raised in another. I, for one, had absolutely no idea what harvesting entails.
So I looked it up. I YouTube’d harvesting wheat by hand, which is how it would have been done in Palestine during Jesus’ era.
It is a long, arduous process to say the least. You should research it some day to get the full context, but for me, it isn’t worth it. I would give up bread completely if I had to harvest wheat by hand. Harvest is hard work.
It is a difficult process. It is calculated and strategic. It is patience and diligence. It is messy and slow.
It is how God wants us to live. He wants us to harvest souls for the kingdom of God, not by preaching sermons and handing out pamphlets, but by living with others for God’s glory.
He wants us to get messy and be patient, to be attentive and shrewd. He wants us to harvest. No wonder the laborers are few.
God wants me to live with someone y’all. He wants me to be inside her life and let her inside of mine. The only trouble is I’ve been hurt by her, and I have hurt her. I have experienced the pain that comes from an untimely and dramatic break in our friendship. Though I have forgiven I do not want to proceed with friendship because my fear is that she will hurt me again.
But God is asking me to live with her. He is asking me to harvest. To go on that slow, arduous, sacrificial, journey. Everything in my flesh says to close the door and erect a wall. It’s not worth it, but everything in my spirit reminds me of how often God has let me back into fellowship with Him.
Everything in my spirit reminds me what grace feels like. How can I not offer it to her?
So, I pick up my FaithWalkin’ shoes, lace ’em up, and put one foot in front of the other, trusting that God has me in the palm of His hand, believing that my heart is safe in His care.
I have no idea how to reconcile when hurt has been so deep. I have no idea how to get over the strangeness that I feel. I have no idea what the road ahead in this relationship looks like, but I trust Him with my outcomes.
It’s harvest time.