How many times have you heard or seen this verse? Especially around this time of year as the days grow shorter and the sun goes to bed earlier. Canadian thanksgiving has past and our turkey comas are subsiding. Harvest is upon us. Yet, I never fully understood it until we moved out to a more rural landscape.

Every morning as I drive in to work, the golden sun is just beginning to peak above the horizon. I’m a nighthawk by nature, but I am beginning to love the morning sunrise. The colours are fabulous, and as the dew and misty morning fog gets burned off by the early sun, it truly is a fabulous drive in to town. Along the route, I meander over the hills and valleys and the farmer’s fields all blend together with hues of brown, golds and yellows. Farm stands are filled with the last few sunflowers and wagons of squash and pumpkins add to the landscape with pops of orange. It even smells like “earth”. Technically, I suppose everything is dying… yet it is alive somehow with the change of season.

Now I certainly don’t claim to understand “the harvest”. On our drives, we marvel that some fields have already been clear cut to the ground. Others are still drying out and looking very sad up close. Our nearest neighbourhood farmer had half of his field cut … the other half sitting dormant for what seemed like days. We didn’t understand. Did he just get tired half way through? Did the machinery die? Did he get called in for an emergency? Or simply get hungry and gave up on his work in hopes for a leftover turkey sandwich? A few days later … the field was all clear. Seemingly worked on by fairy farmers in the middle of the night.

Speaking of the middle of the night, we have seen the giant headlights of monster machines working into the darkness (okay, darkness might be 7:00pm nowadays, but still.) So. What’s the deal? I have come to understand that harvesting of field crops: hay, corn, soy etc. are specialized feats of proper timing. First hay cutting and second hay have to be done dry, at certain temperatures to survive rolling into those big hay bales without molding. Soy beans are practically dead … shriveled into loose pea pods so they can be easily shaken out of their crispy casings and loaded into the harvester. Silage corn is also dry as a bone. No sweet juicy corn for the cows. Corn meal gets blown into those silos. It’s a wonder cows like it. Blech.

And the backyard farmer? Homesteaders with plots of veggies and flowers? That’s a whole other adventure. Our own garden was a disaster. The weeds took over and took over fast and furious. We chalked it up to an experiment gone wrong and just let it go. My kale is now five feet high and has all gone to seed. We did manage a few small pumpkins and some yellow cucumber like things? Plant pumpkins people… those things will grow anywhere. Vines are resilient. The other cucumber things? Not even sure what they started out as? Roald Dahl’s BFG fans will certainly label them as “snozzcumbers”. Slimy, but satisfying. I’m sad my strawberry plants are buried under there somewhere. There’s always next year, I suppose.

And so, we return to my muse about the verse in the gospels. Farmer’s fields are Huge. Backyard gardens are a lot of work. Trial and error have developed into perfect timing over the years to create “agricultural science”. Specific machines and gadgets that help with this or that. Measuring devices for moisture measuring for peak harvest timing. And then the labour. I don’t think a single farmer can harvest acres and acres on his own. Are their groups for these things? I suspect they share equipment. No one family can purchase those mortgage breaking pieces of machinery and survive can they? It has to be a group effort.

Which makes me think about the point Jesus is making in the verse… those plants grow full and expansive and wide on their own. The world we live in contains vast numbers of hurting, helpless people just trying to survive. No one has to “cultivate” wild weeds. They are doing just fine out there … in fact, they are flourishing. Pumpkins grow in the compost pile. Fed by the manure. Can you imagine what would happen if people took the time to truly cultivate the world around us? To nurture and feed and encourage one another to fully grow and bloom where we are planted?

There are plenty of people who need our love. Plenty of people who need God’s love and guidance. The fields are limitless. The weeds are thick. Those of us who are trying to do good in the world and live by His principles are few. Our task is hard. There are no fringe benefits. Only the fruit we collect. We go out into the pasture like “sheep among the wolves” (we’ve learned about predators out here too… they are quiet and sneaky and hide among the shadows…). So, please, encourage your fellow workers. Lend your expertise. Share your equipment. Put in the hours. Volunteer your time to be there when the time is right. It’s not an easy job…. but it is worth it. When your storehouses are full and you have an abundance of joy for when winter hits … your efforts will be rewarded with the peace that you can make it though the ‘leaner’ times in life.

I can drive up and down the hills every morning and marvel at the fields ready for harvest… and think how beautiful they are. Yet, I must remember to pray for more workers to do the hard stuff… and encourage those who are trying. For they are few and far between. And if you are one who is out there driving the tractors late at night: thank you. I’ll meet you at the compost pile for a snozzcumber snack.