A slice of the garden
Adam’s God-given occupation was to work the land.
From the labor of his hands, he would be constantly reminded of God’s sovereignty and provision. These are lessons we are sadly missing in our corporate, fast-food or grocery store lifestyles.
It’s harvest time in Ellis County, the cotton capitol of Texas. Acres and acres of short woody plants hang heavy with soft cotton balls, waiting for the arrival of the farmers.
Lines of cars zip past lumbering tractors on farm-to-market roads all across the county.
As I walk back from our barn, holding a warm quart of fresh milk in one hand and a dozen eggs in the other, I look across the field, golden in the setting sun, and thank God for his miracles and his provision.
What a miracle an egg is!
A warm bronze orb containing the protein and vitamins my family and I need.
How does such a thing come from a chicken?
Surrounded by the smells of fresh dirt and ripening tomatoes, a gardener understands first hand the miracles of God.
Gardening takes hard work as does animal care and, while the payoff is amazing, only a fool would take the credit for himself.
Those who work the land work hard and are blessed when they reap the harvest, but it is abundantly clear that the harvest is not due solely to the farmer.
Working outside under the Creator’s sky, one contemplates the awesome power of God, witnessing the miracles of birth, fruit, and harvest despite weather extremes and insect challenges.
When our hands are in the dirt, when we weed, when we water, when we pick ripe fruit, when we shovel out compost, and when we milk or collect eggs by hand, we understand the origin of our sustenance.
We are connected as we should be to our Creator, doing what he ordained us to do.
We share in a slice of the Garden of Eden. No processed product from the grocery store can compare, nor can a paycheck remind us in the same way of the existence of our Creator and imbue us with the adoration and appreciation due him.
When we drive to work, collect a paycheck, and run to the store for a frozen dinner, we celebrate the works of men.
When we collect the harvest from the field, we have no choice but to acknowledge the works of God.