The other morning I woke early to the sound of rain tapping against the window. It was still dark outside, and for a moment I just lay there listening.

My first instinct was the familiar one: You should get up. There must be something that needs to be done. But as I listened to the rain, another thought came quietly to mind.

This is the day I used to dream about.

There were no animals waiting to be fed, no time clock to punch, no sermon deadline pressing in. Yet there I was wrestling with the feeling that I ought to be doing something. Then another thought followed close behind.

Receive the day with joy and gratitude.

On the farm we used to say that rain or snow was like a God-appointed Sabbath. The necessary chores still had to be done—animals still needed to be fed and milked—but most of the rest of the work simply waited.

Rain nourished the ground and softened the soil. Snow, through freezing and thawing, worked the earth more efficiently than any tool or implement we owned. When the rain was falling or the snow was piling up, we understood something important:

God was already working the field.

Perhaps that rainy morning was a quiet reminder of something I had learned long ago on the farm. Sometimes the wisest thing a farmer can do is step back and let God work the soil.

Ruby and I eventually got up and went to breakfast at one of our favorite places. We took the long way through the country, and I backed off the throttle a bit that day.

And I carried with me a simple realization.

Sometimes the rain against the window is permission from the Father to rest.

Matthew 11:28–30 (ESV)

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Blessings,

Jarvis

From Soil to Soul