Plow in Hope

As I placed my foot against the aging tiller, an excitement I had never felt ran over me. I had never “made a garden,” but this day all of that was going to change. I began to pull on the rope and the motor sputtered. I knew that my progress rested solely on the cranking of the “blasted tiller.” With limited knowledge, I moved the choke lever to one side and then to the other, but to no avail. Looking back now, I have no idea where this tiller came from, and apparently no idea how to make it run. “Farming was hard work” resounded through my mind.

Unknown to me at the time, there was another lever I had not moved, the fuel shutoff. After several more pulls on the rope, and with sweat now burning my eyes, the motor gave a new sound. As the tiller fought to come to life, I also fought to keep it running. Smoke billowed, and the little tiller backfired, but it kept running. Now the task of plowing my very first row lay ahead as I basically dragged the tiller to the edge of my small plot.

With a youthful eye, I gazed at the grassy area and engaged the lever that spun the digging tines. Before going further, I should explain the difference between a front-tine and rear-tine tiller. The poor tiller I clutched that day was a front-tine tiller, and one key component I knew nothing about was the shank that hangs down. When you lower the tine, you are supposed to sink the shank into the ground and dip the diggers into the soil. According to those who know, you are meant to dip and lean back on the machine to break the ground before moving forward.

Brother Eddie decided against such knowledge. I dipped the tiller and simply held on while it bounced and jerked, pulling me like a water skier across the ground. I would compare it to lassoing a bull and hanging on for dear life. Farming is hard work. After several trips back and forth with limited success, I realized the correct way to plow, and suddenly the ground broke. The grass disappeared, leaving me tired but happy at the end of my newly formed rows.

As the seed was selected and placed into the ground, the days began to warm and grow longer. To my delight, sprouts began to appear, small at first but soon rising as if straining to reach the sun. It is here that I could branch off into many different lessons life has taught me from that humble garden, but for now we will focus on one, and that is hope.

Hope is a word used many times in the Bible. Nations and people rise on hope. Every dream is built with hope. Every house, barn, garage, store, or anything erected is done with hope. There is hope for prosperous days and something to set aside for the future. Churches are built on hope. In 1 Corinthians 9:10, we are told to “plow in hope.” The word hope is translated as “anticipate with pleasure.”

From an agricultural perspective, plowing or breaking the ground comes with resistance. A study of early settlers shows that the labor involved in plowing the Midwest soil was intense, so much so that without hope, many would have turned back and never troubled the ground again, surviving only by foraging. It is noted that the Vikings, upon settling and leaving raiding behind, began to farm the land, as if to say they were starting a new way of life.

Even today, we have a saying that people “put down roots,” meaning they choose to settle in one place and raise their families there. My little tiller story still makes me laugh, even now, but the lessons came quickly. Lessons such as this: unless the ground is broken, the weeds will soon take over the plants. This principle applies to life as well. If we want better things for ourselves, there are some things that will have to be pulled up and removed.

I pray you have hope. May God shine upon you today.