There are moments when the plough has been through the field a dozen times, and the sower has walked his rounds till his feet are sore, and still the furrows show nothing but bare earth. You look out at the sharp morning and see no change; you go to bed under the same stars and the land is silent. But down in the dark, where no eye can trace it, the grain is swelling. The rain has done its secret work. The frost has cracked the husk. And one day, without any trumpet, a thin green line appears where yesterday there was nothing. You are living in the days before the blade pushes through. Do not despise the hidden work. The kindness that has been spoken into that life is not lying idle, it is wrapped in the damp soil of a soul, and the Spirit who gives life is busy even now.
You have a great Ally, and He is not impatient. He who sends the rain and the sun upon the unthankful and the evil is not in a fretful haste. The kindness that leads to repentance is not a weak thing. It is the love of God drawing a heart that would never be drawn any other way. You might imagine that a soul must be beaten down with terrors, that the thunder must roll, that Sinai must smoke, before a man will turn. But the Lord has a gentler method, and a mightier one: He overwhelms the unworthy with mercies, He softens the hard ground with sunshine, and He makes the heart ashamed of its own ingratitude. That is His way. And when you see it begin to work, it is a lovely thing, a soul not driven to Jesus by a whip, but drawn by the cords of a man, with bands of love.
The evil one will whisper that the case is too hard, that the proud heart will never yield, that the sin has been too deep. But I have seen a piece of iron so hard that a file could not scratch it, and yet the furnace melted it into willing obedience. God knows the furnace for the metal He has made. He knows how to bring the high looks down. Not by crushing the man into nothing, but by showing him what he is and who God is. When the Holy Spirit comes to work, He convinces of righteousness as well as of sin; He shows the open door alongside the closed prison. There is no heart He cannot tame, no neck He cannot bow, no will He cannot win. And you may be quite sure that if He has put it into your mouth to pray, He has not done so for nothing. The prayer that comes back to you with the dew of heaven upon it is already answered in the bud, though not yet in the full flower.
Take heart, then, you who watch in the night. The seed is alive. The sun will rise. The harvest is not a thing of hoping only, it is a thing of certainty. Many a parent, many a friend, has watered the ground with tears and gone to their rest before the plant appeared; but in the morning of the resurrection they saw it standing fair and fruitful. You may see it sooner. But whether sooner or later, the promise stands: “He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”
Let us ask the Lord to keep our eyes fixed on the Sower and not on the soil.
Father, we leave the unknown work in Thy hand. Thou who hast begun wilt complete. Give us the calm of a sure hope, and let us not dishonour Thee by fretting over the time. Let Thy kindness fall like a warm rain upon the hearts we love, until they break into penitence and love. And to Thy name be all the praise, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.