Promises

 

Promises

It all started last October.  As Autumn began to light the maple leaves in flames of reds and oranges and yellows, and clear mornings were blanketed in crystalline blankets of frost – much like the ancient manna must have appeared, it was actually time for planting.  Here in Wisconsin, many farmers plant winter wheat in the fall, once the soybean and corn crops are harvested.  Rich dark land, disced over and smoothed out lies ready for receiving the seed like a heart open to the Word of God.  The reality that planting is taking place at a time when the world is beginning to brace for winter already speaks of spring long before the first snowflake dances across the November sky.  Is there anything that sings of promise more than a freshly-planted farm field?  “They go out, they go out full of tears, carrying seed for the sowing.” Psalm 126 

Good seed and good soil nurture the first blades of wheat as they emerge like Lazarus from the darkness, straightening themselves and reaching toward the light.  The fresh green is like singing an ancient hymn within a new dawn.  Is there anything that sings of promise more than new wheat blades reflecting the slanting gold of an October sunset?

In November, winter sets the soil – frozen and hard.  Life sleeps.  Is there anything that makes one’s soul cling to the promise that all things of this world are passing like the first hard weeks of the long darkness?

In May, once the spring rains have beaten back the last of the now-melted snow drifts, the blades of wheat breathe deeply and life stirs within – the life always stirs within first.  Winter wheat is made new; it now belongs to the seasons of life.  Is there anything that speaks of the promise of a bountiful harvest than the wheat field growing richer, taller, greener in each longing day as the sun climbs higher and arcs farther with each pass?

In June the wheat stands full height and the grain heads form – some sixty, some thirty, some a hundred-fold.  It is a witness to purpose.  Is there anything that heralds to promise than the tall wheat that ripples, seeming to dance with the warm summer breezes?

By mid-July as the spring crops race toward full growth, the wheat begins to ripen.  The grain, full and plump morphs less green and more golden with each passing day.  Soon, the blade

and the grain stand ready, stiff-braced for the harvest.  Is there anything that speaks to the promise of a full life reached than a wheat field ripe and ready?  “They come back, they come back full of songs, carrying their sheaves.” Psalm 126

The kitchen smells of love and home as the aroma of fresh-baked bread escapes from the

opened oven door.  Is there anything that speaks of the deliciousness of life, the comfort of home, and the closeness of family more than rich brown loaves on the cooling rack? 

The elevated host gathers the eyes and hearts of the gathered community.  He is about to feed us once
again.  Is there anything that speaks more powerfully of the kept promises of sacrifice, of love, of humility, of life, of presence?  

Come and see.

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan           

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