The Farmer and the Preacher
“There’s a classic old story about a conversation between a farmer and a preacher…” — Earl Nightingale
There’s a classic old story about a conversation between a farmer and a preacher. The story goes that the preacher was driving down a country road when he came upon the most beautiful farm he’d ever seen in his lifetime on traveling rural roads. He could only compare it to a beautiful painting. It was by no means a new farm, but the house and buildings were well constructed and in perfect repair and paint.
A garden around the house was filled with flowers and shrubs. A fine row of trees lined each side of the white gravel drive. The fields were beautifully tilled, and a fine herd of fat dairy cattle grazed knee-deep in the pasture. The site was so arresting the preacher stopped to drink it all in. He had been raised on a farm himself, and he knew a great one when he saw it.
It was then he noticed the farmer, on a tractor, hard at work, approaching the place where the preacher stood beside his car. When the farmer got closer, the preacher hailed him. The farmer stopped the tractor, idled down the engine, and then shouted a friendly “hello!” The preacher said to him, “My good man, God has certainly blessed you with a magnificent farm.” And then, there was a pause as the farmer took off his cap and shifted in the tractor seat to take a look at his pride and joy. He turned back to look at the preacher and he said, “Yes, He has, and we’re grateful. But you should have seen this place when God had it all to Himself.”
Well, the preacher looked at the strong, friendly features of the farmer for a moment, smiled, and with a wave of his hand climbed back in his car and continued on his way. As he drove he thought, that man has given me my sermon for next Sunday.
Every farmer along this road and in this country has been blessed with pretty much the same land, and the same opportunity. Each has worked his farm according to his nature. Every farm, every home of every family in the country is the living reflection of the people who dwell in it. He understood the land we are given was not the acres we buy for our farm or the lot on which we build or buy our home, but rather the life we give it.
In other words, what we do with what we have been given. Our lives are our plots of ground, and that’s the land we sow and from which we are then obliged to reap the resulting harvest. And the way we’ve sown will be reflected in every department of our lives.
Stated another way, like the farmer, we can be grateful if we have the vision, imagination, and intelligence to build well and successfully upon the seemingly unimpressive land of our beginnings. Or we can let it fall into a haphazard condition, with no real continuity of purpose behind it leaving unpainted, ramshackle buildings, surrounded by weeds and debris.
In both cases the land is the same; it’s what we do with it that makes the difference. The potential for a miracle is there, if only we are wise enough to see it and to realize our fulfillment depends upon our reaction to what we’ve been given.
Well, the farmer the preacher had just talked to would reap an abundant harvest, not just when the time came for gathering his crops, but every time he looked around the place, every time he returned from town to that white gravel drive lined with trees and the fine home and gardens that stood at the end of it.
The preacher realized the farmer was grateful for what he had. But the preacher also knew it was not what is given us that makes the difference, rather, it is what we do with it, what we make of what we have been given. Yes, sir, the preacher thought as he smiled and drove his car along the road to town. He had his sermon for next Sunday, and it would be a good one.
The moral of the story is, each one of us is a farmer. Our lives are the plots of ground that have been given to us free and clear. If we are wise, we too, can live on a beautiful farm, and we too, will reap an abundant harvest. This is a personal choice. The planting is left strictly to us.
— Earl Nightingale
Best of LUCK as you
Labor Under Correct Knowledge…
Respectfully,
Rick Cox