"Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest.”
Crops are gathered, work hard and toilsome, but the reward sweet, like honey. Silos overflow, not due to human hands but evidence of the Grower. How quickly we forget, laboring day in and out, in vain. With human hands, building up, mouths speaking from human hearts. Rooted down deep, there lies within, the spirit of the living God. Yahweh. Jehovah.
In our midst He lives and moves and has His being. Let us not grow weary or faint, for He, like an oxen great, dips down beneath, our yoke bearer. Our arms are weak, burdened by pride, emptying to Him who on our behalf, makes us strong. The harvest is ready, white and beautiful. Who will sow, who will reap? Non the matter, for if we take open hands, calloused over, and offer to Him, He will bring in life abundant.
”This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”