Chuck Larsen

Here in Nebraska, we all understand the law of seedtime and harvest. We know when to plant and when to reap, and we certainly know what to plant if we want a particular result. You don’t need a Ph.D. in agriculture to know that if you plant corn, you’ll get corn—not cantaloupes. If you plant beans, you’ll get beans, and if you plant wheat, you’ll get wheat. God’s laws work the same way. Ken Boles once observed, “God’s moral and spiritual laws work in the same way. You cannot sow sin and reap righteousness, or indulgence and reap health, or strife and reap peace. You cannot sow ‘the works of the flesh’ and reap ‘the fruit of the Spirit.’” As simple as that sounds, I confess that I sometimes plant one thing and expect something entirely different to grow. Spoiler alert—it never does! My dad had a favorite saying for such moments: “Don’t kid yourself.” That’s exactly what Paul says in Galatians 6:7: “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” Growing up—and growing wise—means learning to live by that unbending truth.

We grow exactly what we plant, but there’s more to this farming metaphor than meets the eye. Not only do we reap what we sow, but we also reap more than we sow. One kernel of corn produces hundreds of kernels at harvest time. Paul reminds us of this in 2 Corinthians 9:6: “…whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” Unfortunately, this principle applies to both good and bad crops. If we plant weeds of selfishness, bitterness, or gossip, we shouldn’t be surprised when our garden looks more like a thistle patch than a flowerbed. Galatians 6:8 puts it bluntly: “For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life.” The size of the harvest always outpaces the size of the seed—so choose your seeds carefully!

The return is always greater than the investment. That’s why the old saying, “Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind,” rings so true. It comes from Hosea 8:7: “For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.” The New Living Translation puts it this way: “They have planted the wind and will harvest the whirlwind.” That’s quite a return on bad seed! Thankfully, the reverse is also true. When we sow to the Spirit, we harvest a crop of eternal life. The flesh instinctively sows to self-gratification—it ruins people and relationships alike. But the Spirit sows love, which blossoms into genuine, abundant life. It’s a harvest that begins now and lasts forever. So take it from both Paul and my dad: Don’t kid yourself!

I have always appreciated Galatians 6:6 because it speaks directly to the often-overlooked relationship between spiritual teachers and those they serve. Paul writes, “Let the one who is taught the word share all good things with the one who teaches.” That verse deserves to be framed on the wall of every church boardroom—right next to the thermostat, which no pastor has ever been allowed to touch. Paul understood a simple truth: quality teaching takes time, and time requires support. Preachers do not live on sermons alone—there must also be groceries. Jesus affirmed this in Matthew 10:10 when He said, “The worker is worthy of his wages,” and again in Luke 10:7. Paul reinforces this principle in 1 Corinthians 9:14, “Those who proclaim the Gospel should get their living by the Gospel,” and once more in 1 Timothy 5:18, “The laborer deserves his wages.”

Kenneth Boles captures the heart of this when he notes that supporting teachers of the Word is more than charity—it is recognition that biblical instruction is valuable. Good preaching does not fall out of the sky on Sunday morning like manna. It takes study, prayer, preparation, reflection, and usually an extra cup of coffee or two. If we want strong spiritual leaders, we must give them the time and resources to become strong. Otherwise, pastors spend their best energy juggling side jobs while their calling is treated like a hobby. Unfortunately, some churches still think Paul was talking about starving their pastor, not supporting him.

Paul’s instruction goes beyond survival-level support. He uses the phrase “share all good things”—a phrase rooted in the idea of fellowship. Not communism, as some critics argue from Acts 2, but mutual care. Fellowship means shared life. That includes shared resources. If a congregation enjoys a reasonable standard of living, why should they expect their pastor to live on canned ravioli and instant noodles? Real fellowship means shared burdens, shared blessings, and shared beans—preferably not from a dented can.

The truth is that faithful pastoral ministry requires time, energy, and maturity—none of which come pre-packaged. No one is born a pastor. Ministry skills are forged in prayer, preaching, tears, laughter, and the glorious chaos of church life. That journey takes years—and a supportive church family. I have personally been blessed far beyond what I deserve. I have served congregations who saw my flaws, watched me fail, picked me back up, and never stopped loving me—or supporting me. Like Paul in Philippians 4, I feel profound gratitude for generous believers who “shared in my troubles.” As Thanksgiving approaches, I find myself thanking God not just for His blessings, but for His people—who shared “all good things” with me so I could share His Word with them.

We all carry burdens, and some days it feels like we are auditioning for the role of Atlas—only without the muscles, or the Greek mythology paycheck. One person wrestles with a difficult boss who must have graduated from Pharaoh’s School of Management. Another faces heartache at home. Some wage war with bank statements that look like horror movies—every time you open them, something inside you screams. Others battle relational conflict with people who should be their closest allies. Still others silently wrestle with habitual sins that drain joy like a slow leak in a tire. Then there are those who carry emotional scars from abuse—either given or received—that keep sleep far away. Into this heavy world, Paul speaks a simple but life-changing command in Galatians 6:2: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Paul has been arguing that the law of Christ is love, and love is not a Hallmark card slogan—it is sweaty, inconvenient, shoulder-to-shoulder help.

Christianity was never designed for solo survival. As Chuck Colson used to say, Christians are not lone rangers—and even the Lone Ranger had Tonto. André Hugel once wrote, “Behind every saint stands another saint.” John of the Cross agreed: “The virtuous soul that is alone is like a lone burning coal—it will grow colder rather than hotter.” Or as George Swinnock put it, “Satan watches for those vessels that sail without convoy.” Charles Wesley must have gotten the memo when he wrote:

Help us to help each other, Lord,
Each other’s cross to bear,
Let each his friendly aid afford,
And feel his brother’s care.

But helping others is hard if you secretly believe they deserve their misery. I confess I have struggled with that attitude. It is easy to assume that people are just reaping what they sowed—so why should I get involved? Paul saw that coming and goes straight for the ego in Galatians 6:3: “For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.” My dad used to say, “Don’t kid yourself.” Paul says the same thing—just with apostolic authority and fewer dad jokes. We are not better than the people we are tempted to judge. We are fellow strugglers.

Then Paul delivers the knockout blow to our pride in Galatians 6:4: “Let each one test his own work… and not compare himself with his neighbor.” Pastor Craig Larsen explains it beautifully: some Christians are 25-watt bulbs, others shine at 50 watts, and a few at a dazzling 200 watts. But when you hold all those bulbs up to the sun, the differences become laughable. Compared to God, we all look dim. Comparison is pointless. We all have burdens—and we all need each other.