The Great Reward

I grew up as a farm kid.  Actually, that is not entirely true.  I grew up as a pretend farm kid.  It was not that I pretended to be a farm kid, but rather that my dad pretended to be a farmer.  After buying a 1930’s Allis Chalmers B series and some antique farm equipment, my dad began his journey into his own personal land of make believe farming.

He used the antique orange crank-starting horse to plow up half of the 3 acres of land that we owned.  My brothers and I were sent out to “help” him. 

“Dad!? Mom sent us out to help! What do you need us to do?”

“Mostly just stand there and watch.”

So, we stood there and watched our father begin to turn over the hard soil with the single blade plow.  We watched as he went around and around, lap after lap.

“Dad! are you done yet?”

“No…a few more laps and then I need to disc it.”

“How long will that take?”

“Not long.”

Dad put in enough laps with the disc to contend for a spot in the Daytona 500.

“Are you done now? We want to go inside.”

“No…I still need to drag it.  You guys can help.”

“What do you need us to do?”

“Mostly stand there and watch…I don’t want to run you over with the equipment…it would turn you into bloody raw hamburger and your mother might regret sending you out here to ‘help.’”

This helped assure that I stood at a distance, watching.  As the sun was setting, Dad finally turned off the tractor…or ran out of gas, but either way our “work” was done.

“That should do it for today…tomorrow we plant.”

The next day we did indeed plant.  We planted…(watched planting)…corn, potatoes, onions (I really didn’t care for onions at the time), carrots, radishes and some lettuce.

At the end of day two, Dad announced, “Boy it’s nice to have that done.”

What he really meant was…”boy that was fun and now I can’t wait to engage my three sons in slave labor by making them weed the 1 ½ acre farm over their beloved summer break.”

It was a pain staking effort.  It was painful to watch the planting and even more painful to weed the oversized garden. The harvesting was a little more pleasant.

As mid to late summer arrived, we would occasionally revel in the great reward of the fruit of the labor.  I remember the sequence.  Dad would light the charcoal grill while my mother called us boys to gather 6 big ears of sweet corn and 6-8 of the largest potatoes we could dig up.  We would husk the corn while our mother pulled out the vintage french fry cutting press and slice the potatoes while the oil heated over the stove. She sent us out with the ground venison patties to give to dad while the corn boiled in water and the potatoes were lowered into the deep fryer.

When all was said and done, we sat down to burgers, fries, and sweet corn…and on rare occasions chocolate shakes…great was our reward.  It would have been even greater if mother hadn’t secretly contaminated the burgers with onions.

Jesus speaks at length about the struggles that we will find throughout our lives.  I desperately wish that this were not the case.  I don’t like anxiety, back pain, stress, injury, heart ache, and persecution.  I can’t envision anyone relishing in any such toils…except for maybe the apostle Paul…but he has always seemed a little quirky to me.  I think Paul was able to come to the understanding of what Jesus spent so much time teaching.  I think Paul understood what Jesus meant when he says, “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.”

As this daily struggle continues, and I continue to feel the heaviness of life, the burdens of existence, and evidences of evil in the world appearing victorious, I all the more long for this promise of Jesus, “Great is the reward.”

May the Lord give you the strength to endure and remain standing as you await the great reward promised to those who have put their trust in Him.