harvest workers

I suppose there are some lazy farmers, but I don’t know any. I certainly don’t know any farmers who appreciate lazy farm hands. My grandpa farmed his whole life, and the highest compliment he could give a person was, “He’s a hard worker.” My only direct experience was walking beans and caging chickens for pocket money, but my sluggard middle-school town-kid pace earned more than one tongue-lashing.

I thought of that this morning as I read these familiar verses from Matthew 3:11-12: “‘I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.’”

Jesus came for the harvest, and he commissioned harvest workers. But how many of us show up every day and put in a full day’s work in the harvest field? I can imagine Jesus standing there with his hands on his hips, turning a slow circle, wondering where that lazy worker ran off to this time. If Jesus’ standards are anywhere close to those of a Dutch Calvinist, then what I’ve earned by my efforts is a good chewing-out.

Fortunately, I think Jesus might be more benevolent than that, but just because he doesn’t readily voice his disappointment, that doesn’t mean I haven’t let him down.

I know the harvest doesn’t depend on me. I also know that Jesus asks us to participate as a mark of our love for him - that’s what obedience means. I want to think I love him more than my participation might indicate. Maybe it’s time that that desire becomes more important than the other things I desire.