Sowing with Tears, Reaping with Joy

Psalms 126:4-6 says, “Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.”

When I read this, it struck me deeply. Ministry is hard. This verse reminds me that even in the time of the Psalms, they felt the burdens of weariness, the heaviness of doing God’s work. Paul echoes this in his letters, encouraging believers to press on, not give up, and endure because there is a reward waiting in heaven.

But honestly? The reward in heaven doesn’t drive me day to day. I’m sure I’ll appreciate it when I get there, but what keeps me going now is the hope of hearing, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You finished the race.” I know I’ll fall flat across the finish line, but finishing matters.

Lessons from Pain

This past week has been a struggle. Seven days ago, I decided to break up a dog fight. What was I thinking? I put my hand between two dogs fighting over food, thinking I could pull them apart. Terrible idea. I lost. And the result? Intense pain, an injured hand, and an inability to be as productive as I like to be.

Spring ministry startup is always exciting but also overwhelming. The emotions come in waves: excitement, nerves, fear of the unknown. This week has been no different, but the injury added a layer of frustration. It’s been a reminder of how the enemy operates—not in the obvious ways, but in small, subtle shifts that lead us off course. One small detour here, another there, until suddenly you stop and think, Wait, how did I end up here?

The sooner we recognize we’re off course, the less distance we have to return to the right path. That’s where I found myself today, realizing I needed to pause and reset.

A Morning of Conviction

This morning started early. I had Bible study, prepped my house for a friend coming to help sort clothes, planned dinner, prepared for kids to come over and go fishing, and squeezed in some journaling for writing. All before 9 a.m. By then, I was already exhausted, wondering, God, why did You put so much on my plate?

His quiet response? Did I ask you to do all this?

This year, God gave me the word “Receive” because He knows how much I struggle to pause and rest. Yesterday was a perfect example. My adult daughter sweetly offered to do my nails. I thought, Sure, check—receive accomplished. Then a friend asked if she could help me while I’m injured, and I agreed—but not without first running around cleaning so the house wouldn’t be too messy.

Even this morning, my husband washed the dishes. Instead of saying, “Thank you, I appreciate you so much!” I started to push back, saying, “I can handle it!” He gently responded, “I’m just trying to help so you don’t feel overwhelmed and can save energy for what matters.”

That moment hit me. Why is it so hard for me to receive help? Something meant to bless me, I almost turned into a rejection. Thankfully, my husband brushed it off and accepted my eventual thanks.

Wrestling with the Everyday

After all that, I started dinner—a beef stew. It required cutting, lifting, and tasks that my injured hand could barely handle. Of course, I used the broken hand, telling myself, It’s just one little thing.

Even now, typing this, I’m using both hands—because people need to hear this, right? I can almost feel God smiling at me, saying, “Keep going and see where this takes you.”

Ministry is hard. But ministry isn’t just for pastors or church staff. Ministry is loving the person in front of you—and yourself—the way Jesus would. That includes pausing, asking for help, and receiving it when it’s offered.

This verse reminds me that the accuser is always at work, feeding me lies. He whispers that I need to prove myself, that I’m not enough, that I’m failing. But even in the wrestling, I’m planting seeds.

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Grace for the Mess

As I reflect on today, I realize how much grace I need to give myself. Yes, I’ve overdone it already. But God doesn’t condemn me for my mess. He gently shows me where I’ve gone off track and helps me reset.

The tears I’ve shed this week aren’t wasted. They’ve watered seeds that will one day grow into sheaves—bundles of grain far beyond what I could imagine.

So, what will I do for the rest of the day? Honestly, I’m still figuring that out. But I know this: I’ll pause, take a breath, and try to receive the grace God is lavishing on me.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, ask yourself:

• Are you taking on assignments God didn’t give you?

• Are you believing the accuser’s lies?

• How can you pause and realign with His direction today?

Let’s put the accuser back in his place and embrace the grace God offers. Even in the detours, the tears, and the wrestling, seeds are being planted. And nothing is wasted in God’s economy.

I hope this encourages you to press on, take those U-turns when needed, and remember: you are sowing seeds—even through the tears.