THE MASTER PLOWMAN

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HH, Sir Godfrey Gregg D.Div

“Doth the plowman plow all day to sow? doth he open and break the clods of his ground?” (Isaiah 28:24).

One day in the late Spring of 2019 I drove past a beautiful meadow. The grass was as soft and thick and fine as an immense green Oriental rug. In one corner stood a fine old tree, a sanctuary for numberless wild birds; the crisp, sweet air was full of their happy songs. A few cows lay in the shade, the very picture of content.

I pulled over and stop to observe the beauty of God’s handiwork. I looked around and thought about “In the sweet by and by ..” Down by the roadside, the saucy dandelion mingled his gold with the royal purple of the wild violet.

I leaned against the fence for a long time, feasting my hungry eyes, and thinking in my soul that God never made a fairer spot than my lovely meadow. This place was like paradise to me and what it will be like taking care of this vast amount of land.

The next day on my way back to where I lived I passed that way again to get another glimpse, and lo! the hand of the despoiler had been there. A ploughman and his great plow, now standing idle in the furrow, had in a day wrought terrible havoc. Instead of the green grass, there was turned up to view the ugly, bare, brown earth; instead of the singing birds there were only a few hens industriously scratching for worms. Gone were the dandelion and the pretty violet. I said in my grief, “How could anyone spoil a thing so fair?”

The winter had past and the snow melted in the spring hence that beautiful meadow I saw the day before. It was time to prepare the land for the planting of grains. The land had to be prepared to receive the seeds and there is where to ploughman came into play. He had to prepare the soil and make it ready for planting. And so the preachers are in the business ploughing the hearts of men and women making them ready for the season of planting. I pray that the hearts will be receptive to receive the word of God in this unfortunate generation.

Then my eyes were opened by some unseen hand, and I saw a vision, a vision of a field of ripe corn ready for the harvest. I could see the giant, heavily laden stalks in the autumn sun; I could almost hear the music of the wind as it would sweep across the golden tassels. And before I was aware, the brown earth took on a splendour it had not had the day before.

Oh, that we might always catch the vision of an abundant harvest when the great Master Plowman comes, as He often does, and furrows through our very souls, uprooting and turning under that which we thought most fair, and leaving for our tortured gaze only the bare and the unbeautiful.

Why should I start at the plough of my Lord, that maketh the deep furrows on my soul? I know He is no idle husbandman, He purposeth a crop and will bring it to maturity. Oh, brethren, the fields are ripe and the labourers are few. Will you be numbered among the reapers or one the Lord will find reaping when He returns. Oh, be ready for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man will put in His appearance.

Author: Patriarch Gregg

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