poetry and harvest

I don't usually share my poetry with people. Probably because I don't feel that I am a great poet and so my poetry is usually just for me. It might also be that usually I am unfiltered when I write poetry. It is a baring of my soul that few other things can bring about. Therefore, most of my poetry remains hidden, tucked away in corners of my journals and scribbled on scraps of paper.

Every once in a while, though, a poem keeps coming to mind and seems relevant to share, so I try to share those. This particular poem has come to mind several times since I wrote it last fall, and it is relevant to my life currently, so I am hoping that it will speak to you as well. 

A grain of wheat 

I live in a paradigm of paradoxes. 

Strength comes through weakness.

Victory comes through suffering.

Life comes through death.

I'm called to be a life giver, 

to bring life, health, joy, peace, beauty.

Yet it is only through dying to myself

that life will come.

I am the vessel.

The fountain of life flows out 

of my death.

The paradox that Jesus speaks of in John 12:24 has been dwelling in my mind much lately. "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."

Growing up on a farm this makes sense to me in an agricultural setting. What farmer would simply store all of his grain up and not plant any more? There would never be another harvest. The harvest only comes through burying the wheat in the soil, patiently waiting for it to grow, watering, taking care of weeds, and eventually bringing in the harvest.

It is easy to see the principle in that setting, but when it comes to my own life, how much more difficult it is. Death to self brings about true life. Unless I am willing to become like Jesus, a grain of wheat falling into the earth, there will never come a harvest out of my life. 

What disciple would simply store all of his teaching up and not sow into anyone else?