An earthy scent of fresh tilled soil drifted across the back meadow. Fresh. Pleasant to the senses. It was the fragrance of life.
The farmer walked along the rows, back arched in commitment, reaching into a shoulder bag of rugged muslin filled with grains of wheat. With calloused hands, he carefully dropped the grain into the earthen furrows. Using a hoe, the farmer pulled the soil over the seed, watered it, and waited.
Grains of wheat nestled in their blanket of soil. Warmed by the sun, and watered by the rain, the small seed lay buried until the appointed time for new life. Though darkness shrouded the grain, purpose within remained in heavenly light.
Life began to stir. Slow at first. Gentle. An awakening — a response to the appointed time. An embryo of wheat began its growth and pressed against the seed wall, breaking it and bursting through. The seed yielded to heavenly purpose and fell away, dying to self so the embryo might live and grow and produce multiple grains with the fragrance of life.
It is in the dying that new life emerges.
It is in the breaking that new life is released to fulfill its purpose … as long as the grain remains in the care of the farmer.
Jesus said, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it produces much grain.” ~ John 12:24
As Jesus becomes Lord of our lives, a yielding takes place. Though we find ourselves in times of darkness, His heavenly light remains within — His light of life. Purpose. Belonging. We belong to an adoring Father who sees all and knows all — a Father who cares deeply.
But His authority and power in our lives is limited to our yielding.
If we trust Him, and yield — surrendering to His love — life will emerge out of the darkness where the breaking occurs. And when life emerges from the broken places, it multiplies His love into a hurting world.
Hearts of despair are fed hope.
Lonely people find completeness.
Fear is seen through the eyes of courage.
Tears of sorrow melt into streams of joy.
And what becomes of us — the broken, yet yielded child?
Our eyes are opened to behold our God. A knowing occurs between us and the One who loves us. Darkness is flooded with light and new life begins — a life that gives Jesus over and over again.
Thank you for praying for my daughter, Nancy. Her reconstructive knee surgery last Wednesday went well, but was even more extensive than first thought. Her pain is still pretty intense at times, but is definitely improving. The prayers of family and friends have made the difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.