THREE ANGELS BROADCASTING NETWORK DEVOTIONAL
Lessons in Plowing.
By J. D. Quinn December 7th, 2025
“… But one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:13–14
It was the summer of 1949, and I was watching Grand Dad Quinn plow under the remains of the freshly cut wheat, preparing the soil for the next season. I was his five-year-old sidekick, and shedding my shoes, I ran across the furrows. Oh, how I loved the fresh smell of overturned soil and its coolness between my toes. Only one thing could be better—I wanted to drive that tractor!
When he saw me coming, he slowed the tractor to a stop and switched off the engine until I caught up.
“Grand Dad, when do I get to plow?” I asked.
“Well son, you can plow when you can start this tractor.”
I surveyed the iron beast before me. It was so strong and tough we’d named the big green Oliver “Samson!” Grand Dad never seemed to have any trouble starting him by hand, so I spit on my palms (to get a better grip) and grabbed the crank. Putting all my weight on it, I pushed and grunted until my face turned red—but the handle refused to budge.
I challenged that hand-crank repeatedly over the next few years, but Samson was not moved by my efforts—until I was eight years old, and finally that old crank turned. Samson sputtered, coughed, and then rumbled to life. Yippee! It’s my turn to drive Samson and pull the one-way plow! I thought.
Under my Grand Dad’s watchful eye, I put the tractor in gear. My heart raced as I started across the field, anxiously looking over my shoulder to see how I was doing. I turned my focus back and forth, trying my best to produce a straight furrow.
As we reached the end of the half-mile field, I was bursting with pride. Hopping off the tractor, I jumped into the pickup with Grand Dad, and we drove to the point where I’d started. But as we looked at the results of my labor, my heart sank! I had plowed an S-shaped furrow into the soil!
“Grand Dad, how do I plow a straight path?”
“Well son, you find a target at the end of the field, and focus your eyes on that. Don’t look back, and you’ll plow a straight path every time.”
For my next pass, I picked a large oak tree and kept my eyes focused on it the entire way. As I evaluated my second try, I was amazed to see a perfectly straight furrow.
Grand Dad’s lesson was easy to remember in the fields, but it took me a good while to recognize his instructions had a spiritual application, also. The path of my early life was less than straight. I often zigged when I should have zagged, because I constantly looked back. But finally, God captured my attention and directed me to the object on which I should focus.
Son, keep your eyes on the tree—the cross of Calvary, my heavenly Father’s words came to me. Focus on Him who died for you, and is the Author and Finisher of your faith. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Me, and I will make your paths straight. (Taken from: Hebrews 12:2 and Proverbs 3:5–6).
Now, like Paul, I forget what’s behind me and plow heavenward toward life eternal! I keep my eyes fixed on the One who hung on the Tree, and God keeps my path straight.
Lessons in Plowing.
By J. D. Quinn December 7th, 2025
“… But one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:13–14
It was the summer of 1949, and I was watching Grand Dad Quinn plow under the remains of the freshly cut wheat, preparing the soil for the next season. I was his five-year-old sidekick, and shedding my shoes, I ran across the furrows. Oh, how I loved the fresh smell of overturned soil and its coolness between my toes. Only one thing could be better—I wanted to drive that tractor!
When he saw me coming, he slowed the tractor to a stop and switched off the engine until I caught up.
“Grand Dad, when do I get to plow?” I asked.
“Well son, you can plow when you can start this tractor.”
I surveyed the iron beast before me. It was so strong and tough we’d named the big green Oliver “Samson!” Grand Dad never seemed to have any trouble starting him by hand, so I spit on my palms (to get a better grip) and grabbed the crank. Putting all my weight on it, I pushed and grunted until my face turned red—but the handle refused to budge.
I challenged that hand-crank repeatedly over the next few years, but Samson was not moved by my efforts—until I was eight years old, and finally that old crank turned. Samson sputtered, coughed, and then rumbled to life. Yippee! It’s my turn to drive Samson and pull the one-way plow! I thought.
Under my Grand Dad’s watchful eye, I put the tractor in gear. My heart raced as I started across the field, anxiously looking over my shoulder to see how I was doing. I turned my focus back and forth, trying my best to produce a straight furrow.
As we reached the end of the half-mile field, I was bursting with pride. Hopping off the tractor, I jumped into the pickup with Grand Dad, and we drove to the point where I’d started. But as we looked at the results of my labor, my heart sank! I had plowed an S-shaped furrow into the soil!
“Grand Dad, how do I plow a straight path?”
“Well son, you find a target at the end of the field, and focus your eyes on that. Don’t look back, and you’ll plow a straight path every time.”
For my next pass, I picked a large oak tree and kept my eyes focused on it the entire way. As I evaluated my second try, I was amazed to see a perfectly straight furrow.
Grand Dad’s lesson was easy to remember in the fields, but it took me a good while to recognize his instructions had a spiritual application, also. The path of my early life was less than straight. I often zigged when I should have zagged, because I constantly looked back. But finally, God captured my attention and directed me to the object on which I should focus.
Son, keep your eyes on the tree—the cross of Calvary, my heavenly Father’s words came to me. Focus on Him who died for you, and is the Author and Finisher of your faith. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Me, and I will make your paths straight. (Taken from: Hebrews 12:2 and Proverbs 3:5–6).
Now, like Paul, I forget what’s behind me and plow heavenward toward life eternal! I keep my eyes fixed on the One who hung on the Tree, and God keeps my path straight.
THREE ANGELS BROADCASTING NETWORK DEVOTIONAL
Lessons in Plowing.
By J. D. Quinn December 7th, 2025
“… But one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:13–14
It was the summer of 1949, and I was watching Grand Dad Quinn plow under the remains of the freshly cut wheat, preparing the soil for the next season. I was his five-year-old sidekick, and shedding my shoes, I ran across the furrows. Oh, how I loved the fresh smell of overturned soil and its coolness between my toes. Only one thing could be better—I wanted to drive that tractor!
When he saw me coming, he slowed the tractor to a stop and switched off the engine until I caught up.
“Grand Dad, when do I get to plow?” I asked.
“Well son, you can plow when you can start this tractor.”
I surveyed the iron beast before me. It was so strong and tough we’d named the big green Oliver “Samson!” Grand Dad never seemed to have any trouble starting him by hand, so I spit on my palms (to get a better grip) and grabbed the crank. Putting all my weight on it, I pushed and grunted until my face turned red—but the handle refused to budge.
I challenged that hand-crank repeatedly over the next few years, but Samson was not moved by my efforts—until I was eight years old, and finally that old crank turned. Samson sputtered, coughed, and then rumbled to life. Yippee! It’s my turn to drive Samson and pull the one-way plow! I thought.
Under my Grand Dad’s watchful eye, I put the tractor in gear. My heart raced as I started across the field, anxiously looking over my shoulder to see how I was doing. I turned my focus back and forth, trying my best to produce a straight furrow.
As we reached the end of the half-mile field, I was bursting with pride. Hopping off the tractor, I jumped into the pickup with Grand Dad, and we drove to the point where I’d started. But as we looked at the results of my labor, my heart sank! I had plowed an S-shaped furrow into the soil!
“Grand Dad, how do I plow a straight path?”
“Well son, you find a target at the end of the field, and focus your eyes on that. Don’t look back, and you’ll plow a straight path every time.”
For my next pass, I picked a large oak tree and kept my eyes focused on it the entire way. As I evaluated my second try, I was amazed to see a perfectly straight furrow.
Grand Dad’s lesson was easy to remember in the fields, but it took me a good while to recognize his instructions had a spiritual application, also. The path of my early life was less than straight. I often zigged when I should have zagged, because I constantly looked back. But finally, God captured my attention and directed me to the object on which I should focus.
Son, keep your eyes on the tree—the cross of Calvary, my heavenly Father’s words came to me. Focus on Him who died for you, and is the Author and Finisher of your faith. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Me, and I will make your paths straight. (Taken from: Hebrews 12:2 and Proverbs 3:5–6).
Now, like Paul, I forget what’s behind me and plow heavenward toward life eternal! I keep my eyes fixed on the One who hung on the Tree, and God keeps my path straight.
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