Unplowed Ground
Unplowed Ground
West of the farmhouse where I grew up lay a half-acre plot of ground. It was overtaken by waist-high weeds and bramble, yet Mom claimed it as our new garden spot. It seemed impossible that something so hopelessly overgrown could be anything but an eyesore, but soon Dad pulled up with tractor and brush-hog. Within thirty minutes the weeds and briars were reduced to shreds and stubble. With the weeds gone, it was a wide expanse blooming with potential.
Later, Dad arrived with the tractor and plow. He lowered the shiny silver plowshares into the soil and began slicing through the fallow ground. Green stubble rolled under as black dirt rolled upward. The earthy aroma of freshly turned soil arose. Dad broke the soil down further with disk and harrow, and the ground was ready for planting—cool and spongy beneath my bare feet. As I wiggled my toes in the loose dirt, my mind drifted to the many references to soil throughout scripture. Christ desires life and vibrance for the fallow ground of our hearts-- producing 30, 60, 100 times what was sown. However, untamed ground can only produce what naturally grows there—weeds. To become an orderly, bountiful garden, it must be re-shaped and re-sown. He desires to re-create in us a lush, bountiful garden, but we must surrender to His plow. We must let Him break up and re-shape our former ways and old mindsets, and in their place, sow seeds of righteousness.
Sow for yourselves righteousness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground for it is time to seek the Lord until He comes and showers blessings upon you. Hosea 10:11-12
This is what the Lord says to the men of Judah and to Jerusalem: “Break up your unplowed ground and do not sow among thorns.” Jeremiah 4:3
“Break up your unplowed ground”, the prophets said, and he adds “…do not sow among thorns”. Sow among thorns? Why would someone sow among thorns? True, but imagine this: What if instead of clearing the brush or preparing the soil for our garden, we ducked beneath the briars and scratched out a shallow furrow. Then, tossing in a handful of seeds, we walked away. What sort of harvest could we expect? Nothing, obviously. Why would someone waste time and energy doing that? Good question, however, gardening is hard, dirty work. Taking shortcuts or an easier road seems appealing, but rarely ends well. Lush, fruitful gardens are lovely, but require constant cultivation to remain productive and beautiful. Constant cultivation in our spiritual lives requires more work and commitment than we intended, so we opt for an easier route. We make half-hearted attempts at living a God-centered life or at developing spiritual disciplines. We scratch a shallow furrow and sow sparsely in a field of untamed addiction expecting a bountiful harvest. When it fails, we’re frustrated and defeated, wondering what went wrong. It seems obvious, even if it isn’t the answer we desired. Shortcuts don’t work in spiritual matters. Half-hearted efforts rarely produce stellar results. We must tear out the brambles, plow the soil and dig deep furrows in the warm, brown earth. We must sow good seed, cultivate the plants and reap the fruit of righteousness, for the beautiful, productive life we desire is only possible by breaking up the unplowed ground.