Faith the size of a wheat seed

Jul 12, 2018 by

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“Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10).

I love that verse. Such a good reminder to stop, chill out, and allow God to move.

And I believe that he can and does move, I say devotedly as the sun shines.

But then the clouds move in and the thunder rolls and I’m frantically trying to solve the problem.

Wheat is a pretty big crop for our family, and this year, we watched our fields carefully. January: bitter cold with no moisture. February; unusually warm — no moisture. March: I don’t remember. April: more cold with snow. May: rain and rain. June: rain, rain, rain, rain!

The crop looked good. And then it looked bad, and then it looked decent, and then it ripened and turned a color other than the typical gold we were used to.

In the midst of all this, I stood at the edge of the field and watched. I listened to the seasoned farmers around me hashing what was going on (what else can farmers do when it’s too wet to get in the fields?). I stoically manned the rain gauge to make sure it was dumped every few days so it didn’t run over. I worried. I prayed a good bit and gave the crop to God — the ultimate farmer. Then I worried that God didn’t notice his wheat was drowning.

Also adding to the drama is the fact that day after day brought us closer to the scheduled date of a trip West for a certain van driver and her younger sister (a certain grain cart operator), and I was completely concerned that after we pulled out, Father and Deb would be left alone. Not that they couldn’t handle it, but half the crew is half the crew.

Anyhow, I prayed and prayed and prayed.

“If you have faith the size of a wheat seed…” (Matt. 17:20, paraphrased)

Mother says God parted the waters. And I agree. But unlike the Israelites, we didn’t quite walk through on dry ground. At the end of June, the sun shone and we flew for the field.

What a rodeo it was. We found wet spots we didn’t know existed and had more excitement than we bargained for.

Thanks to everyone who dropped everything to come to our aid.

We were encouraged to find the crop was not a complete loss, but that specific sinking feeling put fear into the heart of the operator.

We continued on cautiously.

And today, as the dust settles on our last field of wheat stubble, I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

The rains dodged us perfectly (sometimes only by minutes) all week — only by the grace of God.

What is the battle your faith is facing? I know in the grand scheme of things, this year’s farming challenge is only a drop in the bucket, but this is my life — what’s real to me.

I encourage you to take a step back from the battle. To breathe. And to watch God move. Because he can. And when the time is right, he will.

Kendra Horst worships with a Southeastern Mennonite Conference congregation and enjoys farming with her family in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. She blogs at ParadiseMtnMusings, where this post first appeared.


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