August 4, Evening
C. H. Spurgeon · Modern retelling
"I smote you with blasting and with mildew and with hail in all the labours of your hands." — Haggai 2:17 · KJV
How destructive hail is to standing crops, beating the precious grain out upon the ground! How grateful we ought to be when the corn is spared such ruin — let us offer the Lord thanksgiving. More dreadful still are those hidden destroyers: smut, rust, and mildew, which turn the ear into a mass of soot, or rot it, or dry up the grain, and all so far beyond human control that the farmer must cry, "This is the finger of God." Countless tiny fungi do the mischief, and were it not for the goodness of God, the rider on the black horse would soon scatter famine over the land. Infinite mercy spares the food of men; but in view of the agents ready to destroy the harvest, we are rightly taught to pray, "Give us this day our daily bread." The curse is abroad, and we have constant need of the blessing. When blight and mildew come, they are chastisements from heaven, and men must learn to hear the rod and Him who appointed it. Spiritually, mildew is no rare evil. Just when our work is most promising, this blight appears: we hoped for many conversions, and lo, a general apathy, an abounding worldliness, or a cruel hardness of heart! There may be no open sin in those we labor for, yet a lack of sincerity and decision sadly disappoints our desires. From this we learn our dependence on the Lord and the need of prayer, that no blight fall upon our work — for spiritual pride or sloth will soon bring on the dreadful evil, and only the Lord of the harvest can remove it. Mildew may even attack our own hearts and shrivel our prayers and devotions. May it please the great Husbandman to avert so serious a calamity. Shine, blessed Sun of Righteousness, and drive the blights away.