Cornfields - By Dan Ryan
Tuesday, 11. September 2007 by Dan Ryan
Last Saturday night, I was at a friend’s house were we ushered in the college football season by watching all three of my favorate teams (Illinois, Notre Dame and Tennessee) go down in defeat. Hey, at least 2 of them lost at the same time so my agony was not prolonged. That night, taking the back roads through the country, I flicked on my bright lights only to be surrounded on both sides of the road by a familiar, yet long-awaited sight.
In the fields, the cornstalks had begun their annual transformation from deep green to golden brown. Hands down, autumn has to be the best season. I don’t care what the calendar says, I’m not waiting around for a stupid solstice: once the cornfields begin to turn brown, it’s fall in my book. I realize this may be weird - but whenever the rays of sun blanket a golden cornfield, that’s postcard material.
Now many of you know Jesus and I talk a lot in the car. As He often does, God took advantage of the quiet solitude in that moment; He began to teach me in this distinctly voiceless way- as only He can. So when I later got to my computer, I jotted down our conversation as best I could.
J: “Looks good this time of year, doesn’t it?”
D: “Yeah, it really is beautiful. I love this time of year.”
J: “What—you mean autumn?”
D: “Yeah, don’t play dumb, man—You knew that about me. It’s by far the most beautiful, colorful time of year.”
J: “I didn’t want to play this card, but as the Creator of fall, I’m aware of this.”
D: “Yeah, sorry, You got a point there.”
J: “Dan, think about what causes the corn to turn golden brown.”
D: “Well, it starts to die so they can harvest it.”
J: “Exactly. Remember what your friend Luke taught you about corn, about what if it remained green?”
D: “Yeah, green means it’s still alive and has too much moisture in the stalk to be able to harvest the field.”
J: “Not bad for a city boy.”
D: “I try.”
J: “And what would happen if the cornfields remained green…other than you being unhappy about it, that is?”
D: “If we couldn’t harvest the corn, then I suppose we’d starve. Well, we could eat something else, but others might starve.”
J: “Yeah, that’s good, but there’s something more that would be affected, too.”
D (after a minute or two of thought): “I suppose we wouldn’t have any seed for next spring either.”
J: “Think about it.”
With that, Jesus was off to do whatever He does on Saturday nights. I, meanwhile, was left with some good food for thought for the rest of the evening. I didn’t have to wait long before the implications started to flood my brain. To fulfill any purposes I was planted here to accomplish, I must first die to myself. Now that may be a hard concept to understand, but Paul can explain it way better than I can - so I’ll shut up for a moment.
“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” —Galatians 2:20
Kinda weird, but if you’ve never tried this or thought about it much, that’s okay. You have no idea what you’re missing out on, though. Those of you who have, it’s extremely liberating, isn’t it?! Either way, chew on this for a moment: living for one’s self is a draining pursuit, not to mention full of entirely too many personal disappointments. But dying to myself, putting others first…when I manage to just get over myself and pull that off, it just feels right.
“What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.” —1st Corinthians 15:36
Paul is onto something here. We do come to life - we do feel “alive” when we die to ourselves and put others first, don’t we? And it’s no wonder - the God who breathed each of us into existence wired us that way.
And like the cornstalk, when we die to ourselves, that’s when we are most beautiful.
Finally, if corn somehow never died, the world would be a lot hungrier, and new cornfields would not be possible.
“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” —John 8:24-25
So it’s action time: what would it mean for you to die to yourself this week? I’m talking specific, practical stuff. Do yourself a favor: refuse to give up on that question until you and God have come up with the answers to it.
The next night, I took the same route home. Except this time, I peeled off to the side of the road and grabbed one of those golden-wrapped ears of corn to serve as a constant reminder for the rest of the week. That may be stealing, but I already have my defense lined up (just check out Mark 2:23-28).
Die to yourself this week. Become beautiful. Fulfill your purpose. In ways big and small.
