His Wagon Tracks Overflow

The first wagon train crossed the American west on what became known as the Oregon Trail over one hundred eighty years ago. In each state along the trail, signs of the immigrants’ passing are still visible.

For the next few decades after those first intrepid pioneers set out, hundreds of thousands of wagons churned up the ground, tearing away vegetation, leaving bare earth exposed to erosion from rain, snow, and wind. The hoofs of horses and oxen, and the weight of loaded wagons packed the earth, making it difficult for plants to take root along the paths.

In one place where the animals had to struggle to drag wagons up and over a steep sandstone bank, there are still ruts five feet deep. Even now, nothing grows in these gashes. Since the Oregon Trail fell into disuse over one hundred fifty years ago, with the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad, it seems safe to say nothing will ever be able to grow there.

But God . . .

It is a witness to the depth of God’s Word that it’s possible to read it over and over and discover something new each time. I have no idea how many times I’ve read through the Psalms and come away with comfort or chastisement or awe. Yet I still can’t say I know them. With the help of the Spirit, there is something new waiting for me every time.

Psalm 65> acknowledges who God is and praises him for his works. We know he hears our prayers and atones for our transgressions, but it’s good for us to call these things to mind specifically and say them out loud.

We understand that God created the earth, and it continues to exist because of his will and power. But sometimes, as we gardeners struggle against contrary weather, we can use a reminder that God is still ordering the sun, the rain, and the seasons.

Then, verse eleven: “You crown the year with your bounty; your wagon tracks overflow with abundance.”

Wondering how I had missed this “wagon track” phrase before, I checked some of the other Bible translations I’m familiar with. King James says, “thy paths drop fatness.” The New American Standard is similar: “Your paths drip with fatness.” It seems that paths dripping with fatness hadn’t created a striking mental image for me in the past.

The New Living Translation is more descriptive: “Even the hard pathways overflow with abundance.”

The house where I lived when I was a child was built on a steep hill. The driveway had been cut in a curve to make the climb easier for vehicles, but when our dog wanted to run down the hill to meet a car and race it to the house, he saw no reason to waste time on the curve. He cut through the grass straight up the steepest part of the hill. Doing this over and over made a path that remained all the years I lived there. Even after the dog was gone, we girls always used that shortcut. It was a hard path where nothing grew.

Paths, wagon tracks, and roads are fit for their intended uses but are difficult places for vegetation to grow. Reclaiming them for growing things would take back-breaking work. But if God wants hard-packed earth to produce fruit, it will. Just because a place looks like barren desert to me doesn’t mean it would be the least bit difficult for God to grow a garden there if he chose. “For nothing will be impossible with God.”

“You crown the year with your bounty; your wagon tracks overflow with abundance. The pastures of the wilderness overflow, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy” (Ps. 65:11-13 ESV).

Perhaps this pastoral picture isn’t what I see from where I sit at this moment. The abundance and joy may be escaping me right now. It may seem like the long, dark winter will never loosen its hold. But God has promised that while the earth remains, summer and winter, seedtime and harvest will not cease.

Since the Garden of Eden, God has been patiently teaching us a long, long lesson in who he is. When that lesson is over, he will make all things new. I can trust him to complete this because with God all things are possible.

When the poor and needy seek water,
and there is none,
and their tongue is parched with thirst,
I the Lord will answer them;
I the God of Israel will not forsake them.
I will open rivers on the bare heights,
and fountains in the midst of the valleys.
I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
and the dry land springs of water.
I will put in the wilderness the cedar,
the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive.
I will set in the desert the cypress,
the plane and the pine together,
that they may see and know,
may consider and understand together,
that the hand of the Lord has done this,
the Holy One of Israel has created it.
(Isaiah 41:17-20 ESV)

Through the gift of a faithful mother and grandmother, Diane Pendergraft grew up knowing Jesus as a friend. Married for nearly two-thirds of her life, there has been time for several seasons, from homeschooling to owning a coffee shop. She has three grown children and nine grandchildren. An element of this season is writing about literature and life at Plumfield and Paideia.