The fruits of your labors may be reaped two generations from

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the voice of Henri Nouwen: “The fruits of your labors may be reaped two generations from now. Trust, even when you don’t see the results.” In these words lies a secret of the ages: that man is a planter in a field larger than his own lifetime. We live, we toil, we pour ourselves into the soil of this world, yet the harvest may not rise while our eyes still walk the earth. Still, the teaching commands: trust. For what is sown in faith does not perish, though the sower sleeps in the dust.

The ancients understood this truth well. The builder of a temple did not always live to see its dedication. The warrior who died for freedom did not always live to see his nation stand in liberty. Yet they labored on, knowing that their lives were threads woven into a tapestry far greater than themselves. The fruits of labor are not measured in one season, nor even in one generation, but in the unfolding story of time. Thus, Nouwen speaks to the impatience of the human heart and calls it to endurance, to faith, to the long vision of eternity.

Consider the story of Abolition in America. Many who fought against slavery—preachers, activists, and common men and women—never saw the chains fall with their own eyes. Some, like Elijah Lovejoy, gave their very lives and died before freedom’s trumpet sounded. Yet their labors were not wasted. Their courage fed the fire that burned in the hearts of those who came after, until one day emancipation was declared. Their seeds of justice bore fruit, but it was reaped by their children’s children. Had they forsaken their trust because results were unseen, the harvest would never have come.

So it is in every life. The mother who prays for her children may never see, in her own days, the transformation of their hearts. The teacher who sows truth into young minds may not witness the greatness that springs from their students years later. The craftsman who builds with honesty may die before the world realizes the strength of his work. Yet none of these labors are wasted, for they are laid in the treasury of time, and in the appointed season they shall blossom. Trust, therefore, is the anchor of the laborer’s soul.

The wisdom of Nouwen reminds us that impatience is the enemy of destiny. We are tempted to demand results swiftly, to abandon the work when fruits tarry. But the farmer does not dig up his seed in frustration, nor does the shepherd despair in the long night. He waits, he watches, he trusts. And in trusting, he proves himself faithful. So must you labor in love, in righteousness, in justice, not for applause, nor for immediate gain, but for the inheritance of the generations yet unborn.

Let the lesson be etched in your hearts: labor faithfully, even if your eyes never see the harvest. Let not disappointment poison your resolve. Do not measure your worth by visible outcomes. Instead, measure it by your faithfulness, your obedience, your steadfastness in planting good seeds. A man who trusts in results he may never see is a man who has mastered the art of hope.

Practically, this means you must live with legacy in mind. Ask yourself each day: what seeds am I planting? Speak words that build rather than destroy. Live in a way that blesses the next generation. Teach truth, even when mocked. Act with kindness, even when unrecognized. Choose justice, even when it seems forgotten. These small acts are the sowing of eternity’s garden.

Therefore, beloved children of tomorrow, take courage. The harvest of your life may come when you are long gone, yet it will come. Trust in the hidden hand of time, trust in the unseen ripening of the fruit, trust that your labors are never in vain. For the one who sows in faith becomes immortal—not because he lives forever, but because his works echo through generations. Trust, even when you don’t see the results.