Fallow ground…look up “fallow” anywhere and you will most likely find mixed definitions. It is a beautiful Old English word that has its roots in agriculture. Throughout history, those who till the soil have learned that even in the balmiest climates, the land needs a time of rest. We call ground that is left unplanted and untended “fallow.”In the book of Exodus, God actually commands His people to let the land “rest and lie fallow” every seven years. We shouldn’t be surprised. The Creator knows exactly what He made and how He designed it to function. We as farmer’s know by experience the wisdom in this directive. Like anything else that is overtaxed, soil loses vitality and becomes nutrient depleted when is continuously cultivated.
In Minnesota, we have little choice but to leave the land fallow annually, since winter effectually cuts off farming for a good six months. The remarkable part about winter is that moisture in the soil does what you would expect it to; it expands as it freezes. In this way, winter effectually pushes the “reset button” on the land. Spring is always muddy because the frost “comes out” from the soil and, with the additional snow melt, must be absorbed into the softened sod. When all the extra water seeps in, the surface of the ground is hard as rock, but less than an inch below the surface, the soil is light and rich, ready for eager hands.
When I opened the greenhouse this morning the sun was so inviting that I ventured up the garden path, driving a flock of indignant foraging hens before me. The air and light are electric with life now, even though the dull browns and grays of the old dead year are still hiding all but a very few intrepid buds. Our garden stretches away into the field like a cracked and desolate desert, dead to all appearances. But those fastidious hens know better. In the corner where morning light touches first when it breaks over the eastern tree-line, I found “hen-wallows,” places where persevering claws and beaks penetrated the hard crust and delved into a warm soft bed beneath. I admit that I couldn’t help but bury my hand in it. Last year’s dry and dusty dirt was unrecognizable in this fresh, ripe earth.
The time of renewal is at hand when billows of loam will roll over to greet the strengthening sun and swallow whole the germs of every kind of good thing…seeds that will fall in the ground and die…to give life. The land will be fruitful and multiply in obedience to the ancient decree.Fallow ground…the hard crust, the dormant heart. My mind springs forward in expectation to the fruit of summer, but the principle of the fallow ground remains burned in my memory. You see, breaking up the fallow ground reveals what Daddy likes to call “black gold.” But to reach that treasure, one must endure death and a long wait; and in the end, it takes the breaking, tearing, overturning of the smooth surface. It takes dirt under your nails and grit in your teeth, sweating brows and sore muscles. Yet the reward is so abundant and glorious that all this is more than worth it…if you can see it with clear eyes and a heart free.
So…Sam is tying his boots in preparation to pull out the tractor and break up the fallow ground…I can already smell it. The birds know “that time” has come and they sing more joyfully than ever this morning…and the ground waits to yield to the blade of the plow.~Hosea 10:12“Sow for yourselves righteousness;
Reap in mercy;
Break up your fallow ground,
For it is time to seek the LORD,
Till He comes and rains righteousness on you.”
Craig, Karen and The Six Arrows
