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Corn Has Its Own View

Traveling through the farmland of the river bottoms is one of my favorite things to do. I consider myself fortunate that the highway that takes me home also takes me right along the edge of the rich, beautiful fields. Occasionally I will cut over to a little slower path, but yet, one that has much more beauty. I will sometimes travel along the old river road, passing one farm after another. Tractors and farm machinery often impair the openness of the road as they move from field to field or make large sweeping turns at the ends of the rows near the roadway. It is not uncommon at all to see all kinds of equipment resting silently by the sides of the road. Farming is a fascinating vocation.

Recently as I drove along I noticed a gentle, yet warm breeze move across the fields causing the grass, the plants and the tree leaves to move gently and gracefully from side to side all along the highway. I can think of no sight, to me anyway, that is more beautiful than the hand of God shaking hands with nature.

In recent years the farmers in this area began raising more and more corn. Typically, corn has not been a really productive crop in this region of the country, mostly because of the insects. The majority of the corn produced in this nation is produced to the North and Northwest of us, so when we do get to see large corn fields, it is a treat.

Earlier in the year, when the corn was first planted, there were only short stubby leaves making their way through the earth and beginning their reach to the sky. Very quickly the corn reached higher than the other plants in the area. So very quickly it grew into what looked like mature stalks and began its work of reproduction. Day after day it lifted it tassels up toward heaven into the breeze and spread itself around the field, one plant to another, until each stalk was pollinated and productive. Ever so secretly, each stalk tucked the little ears they were producing away into their arms, almost full concealing them from the outside world until they could grow and develop into an ear that would make the corn family proud.

If you were to drive by and see these stalks of corn from one day to the next, watching carefully as they developed the ears of corn, you would think the corn had reached its maturity… but not so.

A whole different sight is there to behold now as you travel from one field to another. Instead of standing tall, and green, and erect listing gently with the wind, the corn now looks differently. It now appears dry, its tassels that once stood so tall in the breeze now seem to melt with the heat of the sun. Its tall, erect posture is now withered, and the stalks have taken a slight turn downward, as if they are trying to bow in the presence of the Creator. If you stop along the roadside and lower your window, you will notice a crackling, dry sound of death. As the corn stoops, its ears, which when green, grew concealed neatly in the arms of the stalk, now protrude like a fruit offering as the corn bows in reverence before its Maker.

When the stalk was green and erect most thought it was mature… but now, as it bows withered and dying, offering its productive fruit, its real maturity can be seen.

We are not mature in Christ because we can “stand with the best of ’em,” or because we can quote Scripture as if we were the author. We are not mature because we’ve been around since Noah, or because we’ve read a lot of books. We are mature when we bow before our Creator and offer fruit that will reseed its kind. We are mature when our purpose for being here in the first place has reached its potential.

Let’s be careful not to praise the upright and the green for their splendid works in their immaturity and ignore the bent and the broken whose whole lives have been spent just to offer an ear that will make someone a meal or make a field of stalks. Maturity “bows to the Maker”.