The answer is simple: whatever we are sowing, whatever we are cultivating, that is what’s growing. Paul said in Galatians, “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” Some see this as connected to his admonition before that, to pay the laborer (those who teach the Word) his wages. But others see it as a reference to walking in the Spirit. Both are important, but in addition to giving the laborer his wages, Paul is urging all of us to commit to sowing personal holiness. He calls us to sow to the Spirit and not to the flesh. John MacArthur said, “The Christian has only two fields in which he can sow, that of his own flesh, and that of the Spirit.” And the divine law of the harvest is this: you shall reap what you sow. Why are we surprised when we plant kale in the garden and Reese’s peanut butter cups don’t grow up instead? By the way, that would be awesome, if it were not impossible. But it doesn’t happen because we always reap what we sow. If I sow anger and defensiveness in the relationships I have with people I love, why should I be surprised if they are on edge when I enter the room? But if I make every effort to let someone know I care about the struggle they are going through, why am I surprised when they trust me enough to ask for counsel? And for prayer?
The truth of Galatians 6 is simple. Those who sow repeatedly to satisfy their flesh, pandering to it, coddling it, should never be surprised that they are not reaping a harvest of holiness and victory over sin. John Stott wrote, “Every time we allow our mind to harbor a grudge, nurse a grievance, entertain an impure fancy, wallow in self-pity, we are sowing to the flesh. Every time we linger in bad company whose insidious influence we know we cannot resist…every time we look at sensual material, every time we take a risk that strains our self-control we are sowing, sowing, sowing, to the flesh.”
A childhood accident caused poet Elizabeth Barrett to lead a life of semi-invalidism before she married Robert Browning in 1846. There’s more to the story. In her youth, Elizabeth had been watched over by her tyrannical father. When she and Robert were married, their wedding was held in secret because of her father’s disapproval. After the wedding the Brownings sailed for Italy, where they lived for the rest of their lives. But even though her parents had disowned her, Elizabeth never gave up on the relationship. Almost weekly she wrote them letters. Not once did they reply. After 10 years, she received a large box in the mail. Inside, Elizabeth found all of her letters; not one had been opened. Today those letters are among the most beautiful in classical English literature. But more importantly, had her parents only read a few of them, their relationship with Elizabeth might have been restored, and their own hearts might have been released from the bitter fruit of anger and bitterness.
Sowing to the flesh produces a harvest that we do not want. Christians are subject to this as well, though it does not mean we lose our salvation. But we lose our joy and our strength and our peace. We lose a harvest of good fruit. Let us then, as Paul said, test our own work, and examine our own hearts. Let do the hard work of pulling out the weeds of pride and greed, bitterness and envy, defensiveness and self-pity, and put them in the burn pile.
Then we may begin to cultivate love for our brother and sister, forgiveness and humility, peace and reconciliation, and watch those grow.
J. Mark Fox 