The Swiss Farmer and the Lord’s Day

In the fertile valley of Emmenthal, in Switzerland, lived a young farmer. Golden grain swayed in his large field, ready for harvest. On a Sunday afternoon, the farmer noticed dark clouds gathering around the tops of the mountains, and the nearby mountain stream swelling its banks. He quickly called his farm hands together.

“I want you to get as much of this grain in the barn as you possibly can before the storm strikes. If you can manage to put a thousand sheaves away, I’ll pay you extra.”

The men nodded and began to move toward the barn to get their scythes, but they were stopped by an old woman’s voice. They turned and saw their boss’s grandmother hobbling toward them with the help of two crutches. She was a kind lady, about eighty years old. God had put the fear of His Name in her heart and she had great respect for Him and His commandments.

“John, John,” she said with tears in her eyes. “As long as I can remember, I have never seen an ear of corn harvested on the Lord’s Day, and yet we have always been loaded with blessings and never come short. So far the year has been very dry, so what harm can a little rain do? Besides, God who gives the rain gives the grain as well, and we must receive things as God sends them. John, do not desecrate this holy day!”

By this time the farm hands had gathered around John and his grandmother. The older men understood the wisdom of her advice, but the younger hands laughed and said to each other, “That’s old-fashioned! Things have changed.”

“Grandma,” said John, “all new things must have a beginning. I really don’t see anything wrong with this. God doesn’t care if we spend the day sleeping or working. I think He’ll be glad to see the grain safely in the barn, rather than rotting in the fields. And what if it rains all week?”

“My dear young man,” persisted his grandmother, “all things are in God’s hands. You know I am your grandmother. I ask you, in God’s Name, not to work today. I would rather eat no bread for a whole year, than abuse the Lord’s Day.”

“Oh, Grandma!” exclaimed John, throwing up his hands in exasperation. He felt foolish being reprimanded before his employees. “If I do it just this once, it doesn’t mean I’m in the habit of doing it. Besides, it’s a sin not to save my crop!”

“You are forgetting one thing, John. Above your roof is the Lord’s roof”

“But John, God’s commandments are always the same. And what will it profit you to have all the grain in your barn, if you lose your soul?”

John was beginning to feel annoyed. “Don’t you worry about me!” he laughed uncomfortably. “Okay guys, lets get the grain in before we lose it! Rain doesn’t wait for anyone!”

So saying, he rudely turned his back on his grandmother. She watched in silence as he ran toward the stable to hitch the horses to the wagon. Tearfully, she committed him to the throne of God’s grace, pleading for mercy on behalf of her grandson.

The men worked furiously, glancing occasionally at the ever-darkening sky. When the last sheaf of grain was put in the barn, and the first drop of rain fell, the men wiped their damp brows, congratulating one another. John was more jovial than the others. With an air of triumph he said to his grandmother,”Well, it’s safe in the barn now. Now it can rain as hard and as long as it wants to! No storm can get at my grain now!”

The old woman sighed and shook her head sadly,”You are forgetting one thing, John. Above your roof is the Lord’s roof.”

Suddenly the sky was oddly lit. A moment’s silence followed, and then a deafening clap of thunder. Fear and alarm showed on everyone’s face.

“Oh!” gasped the first one who could find his voice.”The barn! It’s on fire!”

The men rushed out of the house. The barn, which held the extent of the entire afternoon’s labors, was ablaze. Through the flames and smoke they could catch glimpses of the once golden grain now smoldering in the intense heat.

The farm hands who had been so proud of their success stood helplessly by as John’s harvest was devoured by the fire.

Only the aged grandmother seemed composed. She prayed and whispered continually, “ ‘What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?’ Oh, heavenly Father, let Thy will, and not ours, be done!”

It was not long before the barn was completely destroyed. Nothing was saved. John had said his harvest was safely under his roof, but he learned that God’s roof was over his roof. Indeed, “all things are under His feet.”

—DK

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