I have said that life as a church planter is lived on the frontiers of faith, and today is one of the vistas over which the homesteader looks out beyond his small plot of fertile ground and sees the whole of the vale: purple, hazy, distant. The sun is bright, the wind cool but full of the promise of Spring, and every moment approaches on crackling green grass.
I am surrounded by people who are crazy and hardy, who square their shoulders for each days' duties, but look also to a strength beyond themselves. I smile fondly, watching together with them in glittering amazement as Jesus rolls up his sleeves, takes up the broken end of our plowshare, and charges ahead beyond the limits of our fields.
And at the end of the day, whether it has brought good or ill, we stand with Him as the sun stretches low beyond the far end of the vale. Resting, we find ourselves watching forward with eager eyes for the approach of dawn.
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