Harvesting in the Muddy Battlefield

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Earthworms litter the driveway like soldiers on a battlefield— evidence of the war water waged in our yard and garden.

The green beans flourished in the fray. I don my boots, which protect me from poison ivy, snakes, and today, mud.

I only make it a few steps before the sludge attacks my boots. I cannot move without leaving the protective shelter of my rubber soles.

If I want to harvest the green beans, then I will have to do so barefoot. We have to harvest our small crop nearly every day during this time or the beans become too large, tough, and inedible. So, I step out of my boots into the mud. My feet sink into the mire past my ankles, and my footprints close behind me as I step. Occasionally, I feel an earthworm between my toes. I return to the line for several days, battling the mire for the produce.

Workers for the Harvest

I find myself thinking about Matthew 9:36-38: “Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.

When I read these verses in the past, I imagined pristine fields, rows of produce.

photo of green and black lights
Photo by Tim Mossholder on Pexels.com

But I wonder if the harvest field of souls looks more like our small garden? I wonder if the workers are few because we don’t want to get our feet dirty? I much prefer walking around in my waterproof boots. But sometimes, I need to sink ankle-deep in the mud if I want to harvest my crop.

Fighting in our Father’s army for mercy and justice involves more than parading in pristine uniforms. Some of my previous battles involved leaving the safety of praying in my bedroom chair and instead, wading into the muddy mess of a Honduran hospital, praying scripture or sharing a silent vigil with the patients there.

For a variety of reasons, I have found myself off the front line in the past few years. Would you prayerfully consider the following question with me?

Where has the Father called us to get our feet muddy in today’s battlefield, so that we may join Him to bring in the harvest?

Dear God,
Open my eyes to the harvest around me. Grant me the willingness to get my feet muddy.
Amen

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