The Farmers' Market

the Farmers’ Market

“Look at those bright, red tomatoes!  and, the deep, purple eggplants!  and, the … I will need a cart and several bags.  We will eat good this week…”

“… and, if the Gideons did not exist, then I’d use some other vehicle…”  Wow!  To Ron, the Gideons is only one tractor in the barn.  But, the farming must go on.  This morning I met a friend (new one!) for breakfast.  Ron, a Gideons “Field Officer” [volunteer/retiree] met me for coffee, since I could not make the recruiting dinner.  I summarized my understanding of the Gideons, saying, “… y’all are basically about handing out Bibles?”  But, to this he replied, “No! we are about spreading Jesus!  We are USING the Bibles to accomplish this.  And, if the Gideons did not exist …”

Paul planted; Apollos watered; but, God gave the increase.  We are but earthen vessels, clay pots.  And, most of us are cracked pots!  But, the power and the glory is all the Lord’s!

What is the seed?!  With grain, the seed is the feed!  Corn is eaten and planted.  Apples contain the seeds that contain the trees that bear the apples!  Jesus is consumed and assimilated, strengthening and maturing.  Our spiritual muscles and bones are formed from the Bread of Life.

But, we are but the farmers.  God sends the rain and sunshine.  The Produce Stand can be full of fruit and vegetables.  On display can be love, joy, peace.  On the next table there is patience, kindness, goodness.  Another has gentleness, faithfulness, temperance.  I want some of ALL of that!  (This is way better than “organic”!)

With these in my diet, I can get up early, crank the tractor, and cultivate the crop.  God wants us to use whatever we have – a spade or hoe, a John Deere or Kubota, a culti-packer or bushhog.  There are all kinds of implements – plows, harrows, combines, sprayers.  Some are seed-spreaders.  Others are fertilizer-spreaders! [ha!]  Some read Progressive Farmer.  Some plant by the almanac.

But, the seed is Jesus!  And Christ is formed in our heart.  And it is no longer I that  lives, but Christ Jesus lives within me!

“And a sower went forth to sow …”  “Pray, therefore, the Lord of Harvest to send forth reapers…”  “Here am I …”

Maelstrom! – The Whirlpool

Maelstrom! – The Whirlpool

                “Captain?!  We’re being sucked down into a whirlpool!  Can you hear me?!  Do something!”  These are the words I remember screaming in the wheelhouse on the bridge.

                The cruise ship had seemed doomed since we disembarked.  First, we lost the AC systems;  then, the power constantly flickered.  More often than not we had no light.  Then, the navigation and communications systems went down.

                People were either partying with looted booze from the trashed lounges, or they were rampaging in gangs; and, there was near mutiny.  Different thugs were leading their gangs from floor to floor in turf wars on the ship!  Some tried, in vain, to stop the chaos.  A few just huddled in rooms, confused and afraid.

                Then, the hurricane blew in.  The ship listed from side to side.  Some fell overboard.  Some jumped.  And, imagine our horror when we saw the mile-wide whirlpool.  Around and around.  Down and down.  Darker and louder it grew.

                It was then that the captain answered me, announcing over the PA system, “Do not be afraid; follow me.”  Everything stood still.  It was if our Hell had frozen and it was over!  Next, the mysterious figure at the helm removed his storm slicker, and then we could see through the darkness.  But, some continued to riot and just slid on down into the pit, called beneath by the howls in the darkness, it seems.  Many came out of their hiding places.  Many of us followed him out as we walked up the spiraling staircase to the surface.  We were walking on water!  Some were singing, “…glory, hallelujah, I will NOT be damned…”?! 

                Then, I woke up, in a cold sweat, and listened to the clock ticking away.

Sand-Writing

Sand-Writing

                His work-calloused finger traced through the sand and dust on the stone floor of the Temple courts.  He was just sitting there, teaching a crowd of people, when we stormed in, interrupting him with our perfect question!  I was so young and misled by the older experts, but it was so energizing.  We were going to trap him in his own words, one way or the other.

                But, he quietly ignored our noisy, angry demands, and closed his eyes, slowly bending and scratched on the stones beside his humble perch.  That just made us more angry, at first.  But, it was confusing, and defusing all at once!  I was in the back of our group and it was difficult to see.  “What was he writing?!” was surely the question on the minds of others besides me!

                Most did not want to talk about it the next day.  We had been caught in our own snare.  His calm demeanor was intriguing, at least it was to me.  He distracted the gaze of the crowd away from that pawn, that prostitute, that non-person.  He deflected the anger of our group upon himself.

                What he wrote that day was blown away with the next breeze, a cooling wind, much like he cooled our angry hearts.  It was as if, all at once, he was accusing and excusing our sins, all of us.  Some said he wrote names, dates, … and with his other hand wiped them away as soon as they were written.

                Then he stood up and looked into our eyes, into our very hearts, and put the challenge back into our hands, “…without sin, throw first…”  Then he took his seat and continued scratching on the Temple court floor.  He put into our hands the stones; but, I suggest, he put, into the hands of God, he committed her fate.  He trusted God to deliver!  That was years ago, but I again heard similar words from Him, groaned from his bruised face as he hung there between Heaven and Earth!

                I was the last to leave that day.  I overheard his calm, non-critical voice comfort that frightened, pitiful soul, hers and mine!  For decades now I have tried to live by those words,  “Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again.”  I was such a sinner!  So calloused, so shallow, so hard, so …  I think we would have beat the life out of her in the very shadow of the Temple. 

                I think back on that day, so many years ago, and am convinced that same finger, that wrote on the stones of the floor at the Temple mount, once wrote on the stone tablets Moses brought down from the mountain of God!  Oh, that we could read what he wrote.  But, he did write on my heart that day!  And, she never forgot that day!