The hoe hit the tough soil
sending broken pieces scattering around her. Over and over she swung the tool
up in the air and followed through with a small grunt plowing it firmly in the
ground. The sun was high overhead bearing down on her like an uncomfortable,
heavy, wool coat. Too many times to count, she felt stifled. Unable to breathe.
Her muscles tensed, her back ached. Her hands were sore from open blisters. The
hoe stopped, and she sank to the ground to rest her weary body of a mere 24
years of age. Tears began to pool in her eyes finding their way out cascading
down her dirt-smudged cheeks. The labor was unbearable today.
This was her job. She was asked
by her father to work his field. With the love of a devoted daughter, then she
had agreed joyfully and wholeheartedly. Originally she’d been anxious to
finally be chosen to go to the fields and be a direct player in the harvest.
Though now, that feeling and memory is very distant and she can hardly remember
how to sing during the toil. Hymns used to flow from her lips; the song was
inside her bursting forth. Now it was all she could do to keep moving. She
never imagined what she would face in the field. Her mind began to wander over
the few years she’d spent there. Her heart grieved even deeper as she witnessed
the physical pain, the sacrifices and the challenges of each day that had
passed.
Questions plagued her. Where was
her father? Didn’t he promise to be with her as she worked? Wasn’t he supposed
to teach her how to weather all that had come her way? Why was she doing this?
Why did she give up life and comfort of the house to break her back out here?
This couldn’t be what Father had intended for her! If he knew what it had been
like, he wouldn’t have asked her to sweat, bleed and cry! Did he really love
her? She was young, and she felt she was sacrificing so much. Her dreams,
desires, they no longer were foreseeable. Now, fear, doubt and worry replaced
her faith in him; it consumed her.
The future loomed in front of her
like a heavy fog- ominous, chilling, blinding. As she kneeled there face in her
hands, tears falling to the hardened soil, she broke. The frustrations,
concerns, and lack of faith were crushing her- immobilizing her from moving on
with the labor.
Crunch…. Crunch…. Crunch.
Boots were making there way over
to her. This puzzled her; the other laborers didn’t wear shoes. She looked up.
Eclipsing the sun, a strong man stood in front of her. He lowered himself to
her level. Taking one hand, also blister-ridden, he lifted her face to meet his
familiar, steady eyes.
One word escaped her mouth, “Father”.
Pain from her grief battled with
the joy in her relief at seeing him. She wanted to yell, get angry at him for
all that she had endured for him. In the same moment,
her deepest desire was just to be held by him.
Father shattered the torment
within her in five words, “Daughter, I love you. Come.” He opened his arms and
welcomed her into His embrace. Without hesitation, she went to her Daddy.
Wrapping her arms around him, she could feel his strength. A strength she knew
in the depths of her soul came only from working the harvest himself. There in
the comfort of His love, her heart felt lighter. The joy was breaking through
like the dawn of a new day. Peace rested her weary mind. She exhaled deeply for
the first time in a long time.
Father whispered over her, just
loud enough to hear. “Daughter, I always have and always will love you with an
everlasting love. I called you to this field, to this labor. When you’re close
to me you can remember this calling in your soul. I know what the toil brings.
I know every blister that results, and every muscle that aches. I know the
storms that rage through in the wrong seasons, and I know the harvest can
sometimes be disappointing. I know because I own these fields. I have put my
own sweat, tears, and blood into them. I will not let them fall to waste, and I
will never forget where you are and what you are doing on behalf of me. You are
my very precious creation. And when the right season comes for you to move to
another field playing a different role, have confidence that I will return for
you to give you your assignment. Know that if I assign you, I will find you,
and send someone to come and get you like I did with your brother David. Do you
remember? He was tending the sheep and I sent someone to go and get him. He was
needed, and I knew where to find him and in my time, He was led to be ruler of
my harvest. He was faithful in the small role of tending my sheep; therefore,
he was entrusted with a powerful, prominent position. There is a process
between anointing and appointing. Do not be dismayed or discouraged through it.
It takes time; it takes keeping my Spirit with you. And someday, you will
understand & see the harvest you reap. I have marked you; you do not
toil in anonymity. Trust me; continue to joyfully work this field I’ve put
you in. Know that I have your best interests at heart and when you feel
yourself breaking down, replenish your soul with my words, “For to this end we
toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the
savior of all people, especially of those who believe.” (1 Timothy 4:10).
My friends, be faithful to that
which he has called you to.
This past weekend I attended a
Hillsong Conference. One speaker, Christine Cain, gave the example of a dark
room used for developing photos. She explained how in today’s culture we’re
obsessed with instantaneously capturing every moment in our life and displaying
it for the world to see. She said, “God isn’t concerned about how many likes we
get, but how much like Him He can make you”. The example of David was given.
David had a selfie moment in 1 Sam 16:1-14. He was assigned to become the next
King of Israel. That would have been a PRIME opportunity to snap a pic of that
epic moment. But what we often times miss- is David was assigned that role, but
wasn’t actually appointed King until 15
years later. After he endured many trials, running away, warrants for his
death and battles.
It’s crucial to our vitality to
remember, God does things differently than what we see in culture. He is not a
quick iphone photo uploader when it comes to our lives. He works the dark room,
as a photography artist. Choosing the longer, natural development process of a
beautiful picture. But in the dark room, it’s hard difficult to see. There may
be discouragement, pain, betrayal; but it’s where He does things. You will
become more like Him there. And if the door is opened too soon on the pictures
processing in the dark room, the image will be ruined.
Let him work on you in the dark
room, and don’t let the door be opened before it’s time. His image in you could be the cost.
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