The Farmer and The Pharisee


It didn’t come in the mail, it hadn’t been sealed or stamped or even post-marked, this was a custom created invitation and hand delivered to boot. Its edges were trimmed with silver tears and it felt weighty in my hand, heavy, like it had been written on fine linen from the hand of God. It was worn soft like an newbirth kiss and it seemed like it had been traveling to me for a long time.  I knew once I opened it I would forever be changed and it would beckon me to make a decision,  the way that any good invitation does.   I wouldn’t be in charge of what the invitation said, or how it came or what would be required of me, I would only be in charge of how I  R.S.V.P.’d

Once in hand the invitation unfolded on its own and instantly my soul took to reading it.


To The


What. no! This couldnt be an invitation for me my heart cried, this is an invitation that others get.  Mighty people recieve such news, strong people, people who fight wars and write books and go on missions, people who change the world.  People worthy and strong and full of selflessness and character, those are the people who deseve such a tradgedy and such an honor.  I was sure that this wasn’t intended for me.  This was anothers invitation.  Checking the front of the envelope needing desperatly to make sure this was really addressed to me…..  And yes it was…. And yes I began to howl in agony, “I WILL NOT ATTEND!”

The sadly tragic thing was that there was no phone number to send my resounding no to.  No return address.  No meet me here date.  Once I had opened the invitation I was accepted into the club and I would start to learn it’s ways and it’s rituals. There would be no returning to before the invitation came. There would only be the revelation of how undeserving of it I was and I would start my new life with a dead son, invitation in heart.

The book of James says “So be patient brethren, [as you wait] till the coming of the Lord.  See how the farmer waits expectantly for the precious harvest from the land.  [See how] he keeps up his patient [vigil] over it until it recieves the early and late rains.  So you also must be patient.  Establish your hearts[strengthen and confirm them in the final certainty], for the coming of the Lord is very near.

With one invitation my life was transformed from early rain season to harvest rain season and God was drawing me near.  The coming of the Lord was very near.  Time for me would forever be in those two seasons.  And if it wasnt for the invitation I would have never known how miss spent my early rain season was.  As I toiled and tilled my own soil in the early rains  I stumbled over every rocky stone of sin, teeth in the dirt and grit on my tongue I would get up spit out and try again.  With all my might I would try to just grow something good, something pleasent.  I was certain that if I just applied certain principals of growth and a little elbow grease I would have a beautiful garden.  My garden  would contain a beautiful marriage where beautiful children would thrive, children that turned out okay and served God ones that certainly didn’t stray or embarress me or wind up dead. My garden would be built on the idealistic Christian Family .  The Bible was my gardening manual and Ill be damned if I wasnt going to be the best damned farmer there ever was!  But I wasn’t and for all my trying I was never going to be a great farmer with a great garden at this rate.  Gardening solely relies on the GRACE OF GOD something pharisaical farmers know nothing about….  Thankfully Farmers get invitations too….

Truly Truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies it bears much fruit.

Death had given me access to the  late harvest rains and with my invitation I was now seeing and sensing in my spirit what God intends for the spirit.  It is death of self and a life of trusting in God.  He is the Supreme Farmer I am to be patient I am to establish my heart in strength, and plant my will in him.  He does the work, He tills the soil He removes the stony sin.  He is the Lord of the harvest and He harvests how when and what he wants.

I would be liar and a fool if I told you that the gaining of this seed of wisdom keeps me from longing for the days when it did not grow.  For I am as insensible as the Isrealites wandering in the desert.  I desire and long for cucumbers and melon when I am feasting on manna from heaven, but God in his mercy still tends to the garden of my soul and does not begrudge me for missing my beloved.  Cucumbers and melons are delicious foods but they could never replace THE BREAD OF HEAVEN.  As it is with my story my son and I had a beautiful relationship but it pales in comparisson to my relationship with Christ, and when at last I am back in that heavenly garden oh how my soul will rejoice in trusting the farmer who saved a wretched pharisee just to watch her grow.


5 thoughts on “The Farmer and The Pharisee

  1. Thank you for the invitation! I am honored to be a part of your Dead Son Club! As painful as it is at times it’s only through Gods Grace that gets us Moms through the pain and Only Gods Grace That the day will come when our Sons will be at that Great Gate of Heaven welcoming us Home❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Pamela,
      I am so sorry for your loss, but I am encouraged that you trust in Gods Grace and in eternity.
      How old was your son and how are you doing? This Dead Son Club is’nt for sissies.


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