Somehow, I managed to keep this one plant alive throughout my entire college career. It was a nice, leafy green one; I even wrote a poem about it once. I wish I could say that over time it grew in vitality, eventually got transferred into a bigger pot, and is still going strong. But actually, I basically killed the poor thing a handful of times. I’d forget to water it and then I’d notice the wilting brown leaves and crusty soil and try to get my act together. Finally though, my mom had to uproot it and hydroponically re-grow the roots.
I know I’m not the only one who has done this. We’ve all seen the whitish grey and water starved soil crisping in the pot of a once liked plant. Most of us would just pitch it in the trash at this point. And I’m not judging. But I am thinking about the soil.
We know what good soil looks like. It’s dark, it’s soft, a little moist, and it can sort of slip through your fingers. We’ve driven past farm land, and we can smell the fertilizer, and we know that the farmers are taking care of the field. Their livelihoods depend on it. But it’s not like farmer just stumbled on a plot of seriously fertile and awesome soil. They plow and till, they break up the rocks; they labor over the field. They can take land that’s been neglected and prepare it for a future harvest.
This week, I realized and finally understood that this is what I have been doing all year. My team and I have been laboring over the field. You can’t expect a plant or a seed to grow when the soil is dry, weedy, or littered with stones. It won’t happen.
Asia is God’s chosen field for me, right now. My campus is the grey, dry soil. There are still rocks and weeds and drought. But I know and believe, without doubt, that every prayer, every song, every praise, every meeting and word of truth spread out over that place is like one more stone removed, one more weed uprooted, one more gallon over water. And that someday, this place is going to produce a harvest. The wheat is going to rise up and the storehouse will be filled to capacity.
I don’t want to treat this place like I treated my poor plant. I know that no matter how I fail, God can still create a root. But I want to do the best that I can for Him. His field is full of people, people who matter, people who Jesus died to save.
Please pray that the stones and weeds and drought created here by false God’s, atheism, ignorance, pressure, poverty, and struggle will be crushed. Ask for Holy Spirit to direct everything. Also, continue to pray for me and my team as we set our hearts on finishing these last 6 weeks strong.
Thank you to everyone who helped me to prepare the field this year in prayers and in finances. You have an inheritance in the future harvest. =) Also, thank you to Mae who has helped me realize these things and has shared her wisdom with all of us.