I am flying a yellow crop duster dusting the fields that have been planted. I see a big storm on the horizon yet I scurry to get all of the fields covered before it hits. there is vivid lightning, hail and tornadoes brewing on the horizon and approaching fast.
As I turn to make another pass, my engine dies. I am out of gas. I glide to the field below and land on the ground. I run for shelter as the storm approaches and find safety under a nearby bridge. The plane is destroyed; much of the field suffers damage.
I realize that my little dusting wouldnt have made a difference against this kind of pestilence.
Sometimes, the harvest will suffer and those ministering to them need to take shelter so that their own ministries go untouched.
Come back when the storm is over.