Growing up in a small farming community, my sisters and I knew we had really started to “get older” when dad let us plow the field with his beloved John Deere tractor. Getting the field planted depended on that plowing—turning up the soil and breaking up the weed roots. Timing was everything. Weather-watching was all-consuming. Rainstorms weren’t helpful. You’d work all night if the conditions were right. You couldn’t waste a moment.
Plowing brought farming to a whole new level for my sisters and me. We would actually drive the tractor by ourselves. No more standing next to dad on that little tractor step while we learned how to do this. This was a bigger deal than driving the two-ton truck. Dad needed more hands to get all the fields plowed, and he was counting on us.
It was my youngest sister Lori’s turn to plow while Julie and I took a break in the pick-up. Dad did the once around with the tractor and plow, creating a box around the edges of the field. Lori just needed to follow the inside of his straight rows.
Now this was about 50 years ago, so there was nothing too fancy or comfortable about this cute green tractor. No cab. No radio. No air conditioning. It’s just you and the open air, bouncing hard on the metal seat with your hands on the hot steering wheel, hearing nothing but the deafening “put-put-put” of the engine, smoke puffing out of the tube on top. More than a bit boring. And as fair-skinned blondes, well, it was a sunburn waiting to happen.
Lori sat tall and proud on the tractor as she started plowing those 60 acres. To alleviate the boredom and to distract herself from the hot sun, she sang. With enthusiasm. Amusing herself by belting out her favorite tunes in the privacy of her own field.
To this day, we aren’t sure if it was because she got so wrapped up in singing Donny Osmond’s “Puppy Love” eleventeen hundred times, or the heat just caused her to zone out and she lost all sense of direction. But when dad came back to the field to check on us … let’s just say … Double Ooftah.
The rows left from the plow’s turned-over dirt looked like the black skid marks you see on a highway when a car has lost control. They curved. They swerved. They were certainly not straight.
This was not good. Not good at all.
I remember how hard Lori cried when dad motioned for her to get down from the tractor and asked her to take a closer look at her plowing. I remember how hard Julie and I cried while explaining how tired we were and we just needed to take a nap in the hot truck and we weren’t watching. I also remember how merciful dad was with our hearts.
This story plows around in my mind every spring—and especially as we prepare for Easter. I’m reminded of the importance of taking care of the land. Caring for our hearts is even more important.
To have a rich, life-giving crop, you need to do the work. Get rid of the weeds. Then plant the seeds.
We enter the season of Lent this week, remembering Jesus’ sacrifice and death, preparing for the miracles and gifts we receive at Easter.
This Ash Wednesday week invites us to plow. To turn to God in confession and repentance. In our conversations with Him, we get rid of the stuff in our hearts that doesn’t belong there. The prickly, unwanted weeds that bring stings and cuts need to go. We prepare our hearts, minds, and soul for fresh, moist dirt where healthy seeds can be planted. New growth.
I’m plowing this week. Why don’t you join me.
Take extra time with God—ask Him to show you the weeds and thistles that need to be pulled. Ask Him to turn over the dirt in your heart so there’s more room for Him, with nothing but good soil available for everything He has for you.
Here are a few words of encouragement to help you get rid of the weeds, turn over the soil, and reaffirm your devotion to God—preparing room in your heart for HIM. Go ahead and select the tone that works best for you …
If you’re someone who enjoys a quiet message-giver’s voice, then hear this …
The kindest, most honest, caring woman is sitting next to you. Maybe it’s someone from your church or a spiritual mentor that you trust. She’s holding your hand, and you’re both rocking a bit while she whispers, “Plow your field, sweet friend. Plow your field.”
If you’re someone who appreciates a stronger charge from your message-giver, then hear this …
The pastor in the red suspenders pacing on the platform is using his outside voice as he speaks directly to you in full volume. “Plow the field! Plow the field!” You’re sitting in the front row and his booming voice blows your hair straight back and starts tipping your chair on its legs.
In whichever voice you prefer, hear the message:
Plow the field. Get rid of anything and everything that keeps God from being first in your life.
“Plow up the hard ground of your hearts! Do not waste your good seed among thorns.” (Jeremiah 4:3)
Let’s plow.
P.S. This is an edited version of one of my letters in Anticipate God’s Goodness: Letters of Encouragement to Ignite Your Spirit. (Available in Kindle and paperback.)
