I had a picture of a beautiful field of wheat, golden; ready to be harvested. But when one looked at the sky, there was dark storm clouds rolling in. There is a song written by Lanny Wolfe, the chorus says, My house is full, but my field is empty; who will go and work for me today? It seems my children all want to stay around the table, but no one wants to work in my field.
Push away from the table, look out through the windowpane; just beyond the house of plenty lies a field of golden grain. And it is white unto harvest, but he reapers, where are they? In the house, oh, can’t the children hear the Father sadly say: My house if full, but my field are empty.
Open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.