the land and the rain

“Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it
and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed
receives the blessing of God.
But land that produces thorns and thistles
is worthless and is in danger of being cursed.
In the end it will be burned.”
-Hebrew 6:7-8

Stumbled across this little bit in Hebrews that starts out, “Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it…”

I feel like that sometimes, like the first part, like land drinking in the rain. It’s a good thing. Some days are tough, but all in all I do recognize the good that God has often rained down through my parents and teachers and mentors and friends. And I think all of us are like that, that we’ve all experienced the “rain often falling” at some point or another. Different people have loved us, believed in us, taught us, gone out of their way to be nice to us… And we’ve been able to drink it in and soak it up.

These verses also made me realize that I’ve been, that we’ve been, “farmed.” Just like the farmer expects the land he works to produce a crop, all of the work that has gone into me has been in expectation of something back. My parents worked hard and raised me the way they did in the hopes that I would become a person with a certain kind of character. My teachers taught me what they did so that I would turn out a well-rounded responsible adult. My friends have stuck with me with the hope of having a certain kind of friend in return. Even the soldiers who fought for my freedom did so in the hopes that I would do something good with it. So many churches and groups of Christians have done so much for me so that I might help others in different places. I’ve been often rained on and blessed. But for a reason.

Land that’s worked and that drinks in the good given it can produce two very different crops. Hebrews talks about producing a crop that’s useful to those who have farmed it, or one of thorns and thistles (which are useless at best, or which hurt and create extra work for the farmer.) Just like land can produce two very different crops, so can people. So can we.

It’s worth stopping to ask what I’m giving back in response to my blessings. Am I the kind of person my parents worked hard for me to become? Would my teachers see my life and feel like the time they invested in me was worth it? Am I using my freedoms for good — was I worth fighting for? Am I a good extension of the churches who believe in me? Am I a good friend in return to my friends? Or do I just drink in all the good and give nothing back? Even worse, do I turn around and hurt those who have worked hard for me? Do I create extra work for them? Am I helpful, or am I hurtful?

Back to Hebrews, the ultimate point in question is whether or not my life is giving anything back to God. All the good that he rains down on me, that he rains down on each of us, has been and is for a reason. I get to decide if I’m going to take the good he’s given and do something with it for him or if I’ll take the good for myself and give nothing back, perhaps one day going even as far as becoming bitter and hurtful. That’s what we all get to decide.

It seems like it would be easier to drink in the rain and give nothing back, but Hebrews warns of the danger of that and promises only emptiness in the end. The harder work of producing, of giving back to God and others, that’s the kind of land, that’s the kind of person, that God is looking for. And that’s where all his blessings are.