In the spring of 1987, as the earth awakened around us, I walked beside my grandfather, Charles Green—a man whose hands had shaped the land long before I was born. The sun cast a shadow across his freshly plowed garden, an acre of rich, brown soil laid out in immaculate, straight rows.
Each furrow was a testament to his labor—loose, ready for planting, and, in time, for harvest. It was a sight both simple and profound, a reflection of a life rooted in purpose.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed such work in his later years.
“Did Uncle Wesley plow this field for you?” I asked.
He turned his sightless gaze toward me, a quiet smile forming. “No,” he said. “I plowed it.”
I paused, then asked the question that lingered in my mind: “But how, Granddaddy?”
He chuckled softly. “I’ve been plowing fields since I was about five years old. You keep your hand on the plow. You feel the dirt.”
At the time, I heard those words as instructive, something to learn, but not in a classroom setting. Years later, I understood them to be about something far deeper: faith, perseverance, and direction.
Recently, I was reminded of that moment while listening to Robert Plant’s rendition of Gospel Plow. The song echoes an older truth rooted in the Bible, specifically Luke 9:62: no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.
That verse, like my grandfather’s words, is not really about farming. It is about direction.
The phrase “Keep your hand on the plow” highlights the need for focus and commitment. In education, it encourages students to concentrate on their goals and avoid distractions from past mistakes. Just as farmers maintain straight lines by looking ahead, students should stay dedicated to their studies and embrace challenges with a forward-thinking mindset.
Easter is the ultimate reminder that faith is not meant to be lived looking backward. The resurrection is not a call to dwell on what was lost on Good Friday, but to move forward in the promise of what has been redeemed. It is a turning point in history—and in the human heart—that demands forward motion.
Too often, we live our lives glancing over our shoulders—held captive by regret, distracted by failure, or anchored to things we cannot change. But the message of Easter is clear: the past does not define the path ahead.
“Keep your hand on the plow.”
It is a call to steady commitment. To stay on the course even when the rows are long and the work is hard. To trust that what is being cultivated beneath the surface—unseen, buried, and waiting—will one day rise.
My grandfather understood that. Though he could no longer see the rows, he could feel them. He trusted the work. He trusted the process. And he never let go of the plow.
That is the spirit of Easter.
Resurrection does not come without endurance. Renewal does not come without faith. And purpose is never found by standing still or looking back.
This Easter, we are reminded that the tomb is empty—but the road ahead is full.
So, keep your hand on the plow.
And keep moving forward.
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