Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
We have been in a season as a family for several months where we have been sowing into some situations and have yet to see the harvest. There has been investment in career, investment in academic and athletic pursuits, investment in friendships, investment in therapy goals. While there have been some sprinkles of success and achievement amongst a few of us, for the majority, it has been a time of pouring in lots of effort and then...staring at the field.
Staring at the field. Looking for signs of a crop. Looking for stirring of the soil, looking for tiny buds of effort to burst through. Watering and weeding and working in a field of faith, knowing that the Lord brings the increase...and still sometimes feeling the burden. Feeling the burden of 'have I done enough?', 'did I give my best effort?', 'did I put in enough time?' Staring at the field.
We have loved ones who have been sowing into fields and are awaiting their harvests. Time and tears and prayers sown into a teenager who isn't showing a change of heart. Commitment and sacrifice and forgiveness sown into a marriage that still seems gasping for air. Fasting and humbleness sown into financial issues. Courage and love and sweetness sown into an non-believing friend. Staring at the field.
It is in that season of staring at the field that we learn what our faith is made of, that murky substance of things unseen. A season when a dust of discontent can whirl at our feet and winds of worry whisper in our ears. We can be tempted to give the whole thing up, to accept a farming bankruptcy, to gather whatever resources are left and to walk away.
Or we can pull out our lawn chairs. Park ourselves at the edge. Refuse to be moved. Do a little watering with tears. Sing some camp songs known as praise, enjoy the ones alongside us, eye our little rows of hope with expectancy and joy. Enjoy the impromptu camp-out. And know that, if we do not weary, it we press forward, if we wait with expectation, the proper time will yield the proper harvest.
It might be a different bloom that what we thought we planted. It might take longer than we ever expected. But we will remember the time circled up field-side, huddled with our fellow sowers, singing and praying. Staring at the field. And seeing miracles.