Plowing Love

A prospective disciple once made a reasonable request of Jesus.  “Let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 

Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”  It seems a bit harsh, even cranky.

Now I have never plowed a day in my life, but I am blessed to have spent many a day as a small boy watching my grandfather plow.  Granddaddy was old school when it came to plowing.  He hitched up the mule, made sure the mule had blinders so it could not see any direction but straight ahead, he took his place behind the plow, threw a harness connected to the reins over his shoulder, grabbed the handles of the plow steadily, and then urged the mule forward with a clicking sound. 

Granddaddy, like the mule with the help of the blinders, never, ever diverted his eyes from straight ahead.  I once received a mild correction for distracting him by something I was doing along the side of the field he was plowing.  I never did it again.  It was imperative that the rows be perfectly straight.  I assume the reason for this had to do with maximizing yield or perhaps ease of caring for the crop.  Or maybe it was just a matter of pride in one’s work.  Whatever the reason, once he had set his hand to the plow there could be no looking back at all. 

I can’t help but think right now of what Jesus said about plowing and saying good-bye to one’s family in the context of my older son’s wedding this weekend.  Ginger and I are thrilled.  We love his bride for many reasons, not the least of which is what she brings out in our son and how obviously she adores him and he, her.  We are so proud of the path they have both chosen in life as teachers.  We could not be more pleased for Andrew and Jessica. 

What I wish is that Andrew had had a chance to watch his great-grandfather  plow.  I wish Andrew could have observed the mule’s blinders and the firm grasp of his great-grandfather’s hands on the plow, the way the mule was kept on track through the strength of his great-grandfather’s shoulders, the effort with which his great-grandfather grasped the handles of the plow, the wash cloth dipped in cold water after every few rows on his great-grandfather’s shoulders to combat the Georgia sun, and the fierce determination his great-grandfather put into making each and every row perfectly straight.  I wish Andrew had had a chance to see that because, in truth, I think it has a lot to do with being married to a life that matters.  It has a lot to do with beginning a life.  It has a lot to do with living a life that matters in a kingdom of God sense. 

Granddaddy and Grandmother were married to each other for just about 70 years.  I wonder if the reason didn’t have something to do with what Georgia farm people knew about plowing.  Nothing that matters is accomplished without effort.  Nothing that matters is accomplished without determination.  Nothing that matters is accomplished without keeping one’s eyes determinedly on the goal.  “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

I have marriage on my mind this weekend, and of course, the love between parents and their adult children, and as I often do, between grandparents and grandchildren, not that I’m anticipating or anything.  In Christ, all human relationships are to be characterized by love.  It is to be true of strangers, which is challenging enough, but Jesus also reminded us that it is to be true of our enemies, which is more difficult still. 

Anyone will tell you who knows, at least anyone who is telling the truth, that love is hard work.  It is not nearly the sweet, romantic thing we like to imagine it to be or to pretend it is, particularly around weddings.  Love is difficult.  It requires dogged determination.   It requires putting hand to plow and never looking back, and that I know, at least from observation, is literally backbreaking work.

Peace,
+Stacy