In Paths to Power, A.W. Tozer writes, “There are two kinds of ground: fallow ground and ground that has been broken up by the plow.
“The fallow field is smug, contented, protected from the shock of the plow and the agitation of the harrow. Such a field, as it lies year after year, becomes a familiar landmark to the crow and the blue jay…Safe and undisturbed, it sprawls lazily in the sunshine, the picture of sleepy contentment…fruit it can never know because it is afraid of the plow and the harrow.
“Directly opposite to this, the cultivated field has yielded itself to the adventure of living. The protecting fence has opened to admit the plow, and the plow has come as plows always come, practical, cruel, business-like and in a hurry. Peace has been shattered by the shouting farmer and the rattle of machinery. The field…has been upset, turned over, bruised and broken; but its rewards come hard upon its labors. The seed shoots up into the daylight, its miracle of life, curious, exploring the new world above it. Nature’s wonders follow the plow.
“There are two kinds of lives also—the fallow and the plowed.
“The man of fallow life is contented with himself and the fruit he once bore. He does not want to be disturbed. He smiles in silent superiority at revivals, fastings, self-searchings and all the travail of fruit bearing and the anguish of advance. The spirit of adventure is dead within him…he has fenced himself in, and by the same act he has fenced out God and the miracle.
“The plowed life is the life that has…thrown down the protecting fences and sent the plow of confession into the soul…Such a life has put away defense and has forsaken the safety of death for the peril of life. Discontent, yearning, contrition, courageous obedience to the will of God, these have bruised and broken the soil till it is ready again for the seed. And as always fruit follows the plow.”