Sunday, October 30, 2016

That Cornfield

Youth Sunday. I could hear the flutter of the butterfly wings in the boy's voice as he stood before the church and read scripture. He told us that HIS hand wasn't too short to reach down and I held my breath and watched. One by one, the sheep stood and told of HIS Abundance. The eldest of them all uplifted his body. He faced his grandson that stood behind today's pulpit and spoke of the cornfield. I envisioned a time long ago when his knees were younger, his back stronger, but a time when he was more broken than he will ever have to be again. I could see him falling to the dirt of that cornfield and The Lord reaching down, just for him.

A dozen or more had stood before Sunday School even started. I saw a young mother turn around to the squeak of that back door. Her eyes were full of the purest silver I had ever seen as the tears caught a glimpse of the light from above. We finally went to Sunday School and at the very end of class, a young man talked about why he goes to church. He said if he wasn't at church, he'd be someplace else. I really held tight to those words and let them soak into my flesh as slowly as possible. I knew I was placed here on purpose. My words could never glitter the way these gifted's do. There's no polish I could add to make a shine, quite like they speak.

A young preacher told us of a time when the land went dry. Nobody believed there was a need for an arc but one. That man was obedient and when then rains came, the people were too late to get on board. The Lord shut that door behind the obedient and his family. Another young preacher told us about the day The Lord shall come, how it will be too late for many. That door will someday shut too. People from all over will remember their cornfields, their missed opportunities, and remain with a forever longing to be someplace else.

At the end of the service I watched a little girl. She couldn't get close enough to her mommy. She held tightly to mom's shoulder and watched her lovingly. She was captivated by her mother's earrings. I could see them shine from a distance and the girl wanted so desperately to get her hands on that glimmer. There was just something about that shine.

Today, I'm praying for that cornfield. Wherever the knees are falling, His Hand will reach. I'm thankful for His Touch this morning. I'm thankful for my own cornfield, and I'm thankful for the shine. These young people were obedient today and what a great service we had because His Hand is always plentiful. He has never reached for me with an empty palm. I am Blessed once again.



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