There once was a rice farmer. He spent many days bent over, walking backwards in calf high water planting rice. At the end of the day, he would sit and pick the leaches from his feet before going home with his wife.

There once was a pastor who ran his church successfully. His diploma sat before him as he diligently worked, He ran programs, taught and kept up his image. He had his shoes polished every night.

The farmer took care of his family, and was blessed with two children. He received a worn out copy of the gospel of Mathew. Each night he read to his family, each morning they followed him to tend the rice. Sometimes he found the readings hard, but he applied them to his life.

The pastor managed his church well. He had hundreds in attendance but he hungered for growth. He hosted seminars, he lectured from his vast education on Sundays, and attended meetings all week. He researched demographics and crafted sermons to keep people coming back.

The farmer grew older, wiser, white hair with many lines around his eyes. When he looked upon his children he was filled with fatherly pride. He now had a Bible to read to his family each night. On Sundays villagers gathered in his home to read, sing, and pray. During the week he tended the rice.

The pastor grew older. He developed lines around his mouth. When he looked at his large church, he strove to make it larger. He delegated tasks, he ran meetings, he taught Saturday and Sunday and wrote several books. He gave seminars and lectures on how to grow your church.

The farmer and the pastor, when once both had died. It was found whose work was worthy and who had walked in pride. One was found faithful, tending his Lord’s sheep. One was found unworthy to wash the other’s feet.

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