The Farmer

The farmer gets up out of bed.

He's weary. As he splashes cold water over his face, he thinks to himself, who would want to be a farmer nowadays?

He struggles into his overalls; they are stiff with hardened mud.

He leaves his wife sleeping, as it's 5.00 am.

The weary farmer walks down the stairs and starts the fire to heat the pan of water for a cup of tea.

He knows that later, when his morning chores are done, he will come home to a steaming bowl of porridge with fresh honey from his bees—followed by thick slices of home-made bread spread with freshly churned butter.

His wife feeds him well.

His stomach growled at the thought of food.

The farmer opened the door to let in the fresh air, and he slipped into his trusty work boots.

He stood in the doorway, surveying his land.

He drank the boiling tea like this every morning, looking in wonder at the fields that he had toiled at year after year.

He breathed in the fresh, damp air, looked up at the blue sky, and prayed.

Blessed are you, O Lord

Maker of heaven and earth.

Who gives me breath in my lungs

and strength to my bones.

Blessed are you, O Lord, who pours down water from the heavens to give the thirsty land refreshing water.

Who lets the sun rise and set, bringing much-needed warmth.

I offer you, O Lord; my hands and feet may we work together to sow seeds that will bring an abundant harvest for your glory. Amen.

The farmer, energised by his prayer, sets out for the barn.

He lets his chickens out. The eggs would be collected later.

The farmer picks up the weighty bag of seed.

He walks towards the field; the bag lies heavily on his shoulder.

The field is not as ploughed as he would like, but it needs to be sown, so he sets the bag of seed down and fills his belt bag to the brim so he can easily access it.

For two hours, the farmer walks up and down his field in straight rows.

He throws out seeds from his bag, some to the left, others to the right.

He often has to refill his belt bag.

Soon the sun is high, and sweat is pouring from his brow.

Birds are circling, ready to come and swoop down and peck at the seeds as soon as he leaves.

He is hot, hungry, and tired; his job is done.

The farmer knows from experience that the birds will eat some of the seed, and the weeds will choke other seeds. Yet other seeds would have fallen on the soil where he hadn't ploughed properly, and they would lie there and die.

The farmer smiled, knowing that some of the seeds he had sown would grow so tall and produce the best wheat, which his wife would grind into the most delicious bread he was about to eat for his breakfast.

Other wheat will go to serve others' tables.

As he walked, he thought,

‘I never know the outcome of my yearly sowing, but God does; all he wants me to do is be a faithful sower’

A few years later

The farmer lay on his bed; he could no longer get up and work on his beloved farm.

His mind was willing, but his body was very weak.

He lay there, thinking about who else would take over from him in sowing his fields.

He heard his dear wife making breakfast for them both. She had been a blessing to him all their married life.

He started to say his daily prayer.

These last few months, it had changed, as he could no longer stand at his front door looking over his land.

He started to mumble quietly

Blessed are you, O Lord

Maker of heaven and earth.

Who gives me breath in my lungs

and strength to my bones

Blessed are you, O Lord, who pours down water from the heavens to give the thirsty land refreshing water.

Who lets the sun rise and set, bringing much-needed warmth.

I offer you, O Lord, my hands and feet.

At this part of his prayer, the farmer faltered. What use was he to God, lying in bed day after day? He could no longer use his body to serve his maker.

Tears trickled down his face.

The farmer was not one for self-pity, but over the next few days he started to look back over his life.

His mood began to lower as he thought that all his life he had farmed. What impact had he made on God's kingdom?

A week later, the farmer drifted into a deep sleep. The doctor told the farmer's wife that he wouldn’t be on this earth much longer.

His wife sat by his bed and read his favourite Bible passages to him.

The farmer's wife would let others come and sit with him.

One day, the neighbouring farmer sat by his bed and spoke in his rough voice.

“You know I’m a man of few words, but I needed to tell you before you pass from this earth that you have been a dear friend to me.”

“There have been times where I didn’t think I could go on, and you would walk across the field at just the right time and let me rant at ya. You listened to me and reassured me that I was not alone”

“ Remember that time my tractor had broken down, and you came with your tools and fixed it.”

“I just want to say thank ya.”

He shuffled out quickly.

The next day a young woman came to visit. She sat by the farmer's bed and took his calloused hand in his and said, “ You need to know that the day you came and dropped off the loaf of bread that your wife had made with the wheat from your field and the sweet honey that came from your bees came at the very moment I had prayed for provision. We had no money, and our food had run out.”

Tears splashed onto the farmer's hands. She wiped them away and kissed them. And then walked out of the room.

These words were the last earthly words the farmer heard before entering into his heavenly home.