Sower, Seed & Soil - Part 2

A parable of my own: When my son Ben lived with me, there came a time when I begged him to plant some tomato and pepper plants for me.  Ben is a good gardener – he inherited his Grandmother’s thumb.  He absolutely refused: I will not waste a moment of my life on planting anything for you, Ma. 

Imagine my hurt when I asked him why.  Because you won’t do the necessary work and we both know it.  You’ll ignore it and leave it to its own devices and it will die.  I won’t do it.  And you can’t make me.

That’s how I remember it, anyhow.

All the conditions were excellent for a good crop: good soil, plenty of sunshine, an easy source of nearby water in the form of the water hose; a willing and able sower, good seed.

What was missing was a gardener – someone to nurture and tend what was sown.

And without a good gardener, the crop would fail.

People are like the plants I wanted to plant but had no interest in maintaining: telling someone the Good News, preaching at them about what they should do, without being willing to go the distance with them, without being willing to do the hard work of persisting throughout their ‘season’, they have virtually no chance.

We cannot preach someone to heaven.  We have to walk alongside those – including ourselves – in need of God’s Word.

For how long?  For as long as it takes.

Just like Jesus.


___________________

Ben was right, of course – I would have been too unmindful to even drag the garden hose the few feet necessary to water my imaginary plants.  It’s not easy when the son becomes the teacher, let me tell you.

Sower, Seed & Soil (Part 1)

Matthew 13 (NRSV):   “Listen! A sower went out to sow.  And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up.  Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil.  But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away.  Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.  Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.  Let anyone with ears listen! . . . When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path.  As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy;  yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing.  But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

***

Sower, Seed & Soil (Part 1)

In Jesus’ parable, we are left with three ‘groups’: 1.  The sower; 2.  The seeds; and 3.  The soil.

The trick of the parable, perhaps, is to recognize that we ourselves, as well as God, can play any or all of these roles.

We operate as the sower when we bring the Word of God to others, whether with our words or with our deeds.

We operate as the seeds when the Word of God works (or doesn’t work) upon us.

We operate as the soil, offering ground fertile or infertile – that is, the space in which God’s Word either finds root or does not – for ourselves and for others.

Some things to know about sowers:

1. We are all sowers.  We are all proclaimers of God’s Word.  We are a priesthood of believers, each and all of us called and charged with the gift and responsibility of sharing what we know with others.  There is no professional priesthood that gets laypeople off the hook.  It is not my job; it is ours, this proclaiming business.  It is ours.

2. The sower’s job is to sow the seed – that is to proclaim God’s Word with our words and most importantly, with our lives.  The response of the seed is not within our control – when we sow, we do the best we can and leave the rest to God and the other person.

3. A sower sows.  A sower does not tell the soil it is unworthy of the seed.  A sower nurtures the soil if nurture it needs.  A sower clears the soil of rock before sowing rather than complaining that the soil is rocky when seed fails to take root.  A sower works with rather than against the soil.

4. Sowers persist.  A sower knows that sometimes the seed simply will not take root and germinate.  The results are not within the sower’s control.  Sowers sow.  It is the seed which must do the growing.  This is why a sower does not abandon tomatoes as a crop merely because of one bad year for tomatoes.

5. A sower knows that depending on the crop, he may never live to see the fruits of his labor; yet the sower trusts that fruits there will be.

Some things to remember about the ground, dirt, soil that we are:

1. Sometimes soil stays the same; mostly it doesn’t.  Wonderful beds of soil have been made or lost over time to due changing weather patterns, changing river ways, to management and mismanagement.

2. What lays under the top soil isn’t obvious.  You’ve got to do some digging to find out about the true value of the land.

3. Sometimes only time will tell when it comes to what we put in the ground – sometimes you just have to wait and see what will grow.

4. Soil is often affected by things beyond its control – chemical pesticides, weather (wind and rain) caused erosion, the formation of gullies (which travel uphill rather than down).

Finally, seeds might do well to remember that:

1. The germ of life lives within you.

2. The desire to respond to good soil and water and sun – to nourishment – is innate to who you are – you are a seed – you were made for growing.  And like the caterpillar, who you are now looks nothing like who or what you will become.

3. You are a crop seed, which means that when you grow, it will not be – or not only be – for your own glory, but for the nourishment, the sustaining, of others.

As followers of The Way, we are all sowers, soil and seeds – sometimes for ourselves, sometimes for others.

Being a sower means being patient, diligent and persistent. . . and knowledgeable about the soil and seed. The farmer who quits the first time a crop fails isn’t much of a farmer.  Likewise, a sower of God’s Word who gets discouraged at the first rejection isn’t going to be much of a sower.

A good farmer is one who understands the particular seed he works with, knowing in what conditions it will best grow, understanding the soil he’s dealing with.  Likewise, a good sower doesn’t beat the soil or condemn the seed.  Rather, the good sower does all he can to nourish the soil, remove the rocks, establish a rich top soil to give the seed the best possible chance to grow.

And being the seed is just doing that which we were created to do: grow.

Sermon Cliff Note: Sheep Lost & Sheep Found and Those Who Seek Them

Scripture:  Luke 15.1-7 (the parable of the lost sheep)

It’s a story we know so well, this tale of the one lost sheep.  The unfairness of it all – even the downright foolishness – this risking a whole group in order to save just one, arises:  Who does that?  How unfair is that to the 99?  Really?  You’d endanger 99 for just one?

These questions are the questions of the Pharisees.  They’re not bad people; they’re the good people.

And Jesus is spending time with the dregs of society.  He talks to them.  He eats with them.  He takes them seriously.  He thinks they matter.  And everyone knows they don’t – everyone, that is, except Jesus.

Instead of just going to Jesus, instead of trying to understand what he’s doing and why, the good people talk among themselves, grumbling and complaining.  They’re jealous.

At its core, jealousy is giving space to the 2-year-old who once lived inside us all.  But we’re not 2 anymore!  The time for baby talk and humoring is over – when we’re 2, it’s all about us.  But we’re not 2 anymore and it isn’t and we know it.

The problem, or at least one of the problems, is in understanding what the love of God looks like and what it requires.  So it’s back to basics . . .

God’s love is risky   God holds nothing back of God’s self in order to love and care for us.  And God gets hurt in the process.  God risks and requires that we do the same.  Was it risky to leave the 99 to look for the one?  Of course it was.  But the greater risk was to simply let the one go.  

God’s love is extravagant When I have more than I need, I can either decide even that’s not enough and demand more (the 2-year-old response) or I can share (the grown up response).  To risk the whole herd for the one is extravagant.  To risk our life together here in this church in order to love and serve our neighbors not here today is extravagant.  God isn’t always calling us to do more, but God is always calling us to be more. . . to be more loving . . . more understanding . . . more willing to risk what we think of as our ‘all’ – so that – we can come to the place of understanding that the ‘all’ we think of as all was little indeed.  

God’s love is exorbitant – God seems to think there’s more than enough love to go around.  But maybe we’re right and there’s not.  Yet even if there is only so much to go around, maybe that’s what we’re here for – to offer it all.  I doubt any of us have ever truly gotten to the end of ourselves.  But even if we have, so what?  To spend ourselves on behalf of others is why we’re here.

God’s love is seeking - God is a seeking God who calls us to be a seeking people.  God is a seeking God, searching out the lost and the lonely, the sad and the haggard, the down and out as well as the up and coming.  God seeks.  So too must we.

God’s love is contagious.  Love, like laughter, is contagious.  It spreads.  It can’t help but spread.  It’s that little light we were taught to sing as children – it cannot be hidden – it must shine.  And in its shining is its attraction.

In Jesus’ parable story to the grumblers, perhaps we, like them, are the sheep, the 99.  The question that hangs waiting to be answered is: are we content to munch our own grass?  Or are we joining in the rescue party?  More daring, are we ready to read ourselves into the story as shepherds?  For what sheep would a good shepherd leave behind?

SermonCliffNote: The Truth Isn't Finished with Us

Abridged sermon from Sunday, March 3 based on the text from Luke 13.1-9

Blood mingled with sacrifice – is this horror the act of God?  the people ask Jesus.  Apparently Pilate had ordered the slaughter of some Jewish people while they worshiped God.  It is monstrous.  And the people want to know why this happened?

Why did God allow the desecration of God’s own holy place?  Was it because those killed were somehow to blame?  Was this divine retribution?

Jesus’ answer is short and to the point, “No.”

No – the people who died at Pilate’s hand are no worse than anyone else.  No – the people who died in an accident when a tower collapsed were no worse than anyone else.  No – Jesus says elsewhere in the gospels, the man who was blind was no worse than anyone else – and neither were his parents.  No, says Jesus – this is not about just deserts.

This can seem quite far removed from us – in our time, surely no one suggests some sort of divine retribution as the cause of murder and mayhem . . . do we?

Well, actually, yes we do.  Twin towers fell literally from the sky on September 11, 2011 and religious leaders Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell blame homosexuals and me.  Well, they blamed feminists and I am a feminist, so there you have it – 9/11 was my fault.  More to the point, I’m sure there were some feminists and gay folk in those Towers.  Must have been their fault.

Children are murdered at their school desks and Mike Hukabee blames the absence of prayer in school.  He blames (at least implicitly) the victims.

When someone’s house burns down or is swept away in a flood, our response – whether we’re generous to help or not – is as much governed by our own assessment of their worthiness as by their need.

Jesus makes it clear to his listeners and to us: tragedy strikes where it strikes.  We are not to blame for being murdered; we are not to blame when a tower falls down on our heads.  And neither is God.

But, says Jesus, that is not to say that we are not to blame for anything.  For we are responsible for one thing, and one thing only: our own lives lived.

Jesus’ call to repent is heard by some as a warning about the waiting fires of hell: get busy or worse will happen to you!

Others hear a clarion call to life in all its fulness.

What I hear lies somewhere in between, perhaps.  I hear Jesus saying that all things, all creatures have their time.  And that time has a purpose: fruit bearing.  We’re an orchard and it’s our job to behave as the trees we are.  If we don’t, well, the fact is we’re no longer trees – we’re something, but not trees.

Jesus’ words are a reminder that so long as we live, choice remains before us.  And his challenge is that we choose well.  And if we choose well, if we ‘choose’ to inhabit God, the fruit, the evidence in lives changed, will come.

In effect, Jesus says, “It’s not such a mystery: just look at your own life.  If it’s looking pretty barren just now, why don’t you spend some time with me?  Why don’t you just relax into me?  Why don’t you quit worrying about what everyone else thinks?  Why don’t you stop worrying all together?  And instead of worrying, why not just chill out with me?  Instead of making all those vows to change, why don’t you just be with me – change will come – I promise.  Why not give God time a try?”

Jesus says explicitly elsewhere in Luke that God is the God of the living.  God is about the business of life.  It’s God’s very purpose, if you will.  And God focus is a force to be reckoned with.  So if our purpose centers on not-life, God will not be thwarted.  If we reject God-life, God-life will nevertheless flourish.

Be the tree or be the mulch.  Either way, life will come.

A character in the novel Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace, a wise man sought out by a young man for advice when the young man is suffering greatly, observes, “The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.”

The Truth isn’t finished with us yet.  We are all works in progress.  So long as there is life in us, there is work to be done.  Our problem is that we think the work is ours.  Not so.  The work is God’s.  And it is mighty.

It is the work that can turn a tired back into a giant strong enough to walk a sick child into the night.  It can take a broken heart and turn it into an inspiration for another wounded soul.  It can take a selfish heathen like me and make a preacher.

The work of God in our lives is never finished.  There is always pruning and more pruning.  And pruning hurts like the dickens, because, you see, The Truth is far from finished with us.

And oh, what good news that is.

The Tree That Forgot Its Name

This parable is my weak attempt to make sense of Luke 13.6-9 (the parable of the fig tree that bore no fruit).

Long ago, there was a lone tree in the orchard.  It was very old and very tall.  Its branches were gnarled and its bark dark and weird looking.  The other trees gave it wide berth.  They were afraid of this tree, for it had been many years since it had born fruit – so many years, in fact, that neither it nor its fellow trees could even remember what kind of tree it was, for as everyone knows, trees are named for their fruit.

The tree was so great in size that its lowest branches could not be reached by even the tallest man or even the tallest man standing on the shoulders of the tallest man.  And so the tree, a little proud, it must be said, of its longevity and its great size, had stopped thinking long ago about fruit.  The tree hadn’t ever decided to stop being fruitful; it just forgot that it could.  It was a very tired tree and the work of being a tree just seemed too hard.

So when the sun shone, it seldom lifted its branches or turned its few leaves to the life-giving warmth.

When the rains came, it sipped from the surface, but didn’t bother to send its roots deep for the thirst-quenching drink it needed to badly.  It had been so long, in fact, that the tree forgot that it was even thirsty.

The tree didn’t know it, but it was slowly starving itself to death.

And its roots were so close to the surface that a slight wind would have toppled it easily.  If anyone tried to point that out to the tree, it just said oh well.

One day a master gardener came to tell the owner of the orchard what to do with all his trees.  When it came to the great tree in the middle, the owner wanted to cut it down to make room for more, for better, trees.  But the gardener said, “Give me a year and let’s see what I can do with her.”  The owner agreed.

So the gardener went and got a very tall ladder and some pruning shears.  But the first thing he did was soak the ground around the tree with water – so much water that the tree had to drink.  Then he mixed in some good soil and built up a mound around the tree; and the tree ate from the good dirt.  The tree felt better than she had in years.  She even lifted a branch or two towards the sun.  But the gardener knew he had more work to do and so he climbed the ladder with his shears and began to cut back the many dead and dying branches on the tree.  The tree did not like this one little bit: it hurt – a lot.  Every branch cut away caused her to shout out in pain.  But the gardener kept cutting and cutting and cutting.  By the time he was done, Tree looked like a little school boy with a bad haircut.

Fall and winter passed and finally, spring came again.  And a funny thing happened: leaves burst out from Tree’s trunk and from the few branches that gardener had left.

Tree didn’t decide to have new leaves.  They just came.  Because when a tree has water and good soil and good sun, leaves and branches grow.  It just happens, because that’s how Creator made it to happen.

And it didn’t happen right away, but Tree did finally bear fruit again – and no one in the orchard was more surprised than her when it happened.  One day there was a wind and with the wind, things began to drop from the tree – hard things – so hard that on their way down to the ground, they sometimes hit the other trees who shouted out hey!

The hard things that fell to the ground were mostly eaten by squirrels and deer and the other critters who lived in or visited the orchard.  But some of the hard things weren’t eaten.  Some of them buried themselves into the ground and then, when the sun and the rains came, they sprouted into (can you guess?) . . . little oak trees.

When Tree looked down and saw them, she was very pleased to have some company, for she had been alone for a very long time.  The first one she saw, in fact, made her cry, for she had forgotten what it was not to be alone in the orchard.

That was a very good day indeed, the day Tree again bore fruit and again knew itself to be oak.

When Even Heaven is Not Enough

[Cliff Notes version of Sunday's Sermon on Matthew 21.23-32 - Jesus is challenged by the chief priests and elders and gives them a parable about two brothers to chew on]


When I first came to Highland, I went on Map Quest to get directions to Harrisonburg from McDowell, which sent me to Monterey, then to Franklin, West Virginia, and from there, on Rt. 33, to Harrisonburg, almost doubling the distance.  Now, Map Quest would have gotten me there . . . eventually. . . but somewhere in the mountains, I would have begun to wonder if I’d taken a wrong turn and long before I got to Harrisonburg, I probably would have turned around and gone back, believing myself hopelessly lost.
That’s the problem with the view of God and faith as a matter of prescribed rules . . . there are so many rules, so many obstacles, so many ‘long-way-around’ directions that, if you didn’t already know the way, you’d feel yourself hopelessly lost, and, chances are, turn around and go home, giving up any thought of ever getting to “Harrisonburg”, or if you kept at it, you’d be so exhausted by the journey that you’d probably wonder why you even bothered.
From the outset, the chief priests and elders  refuse to believe that they have anything to learn from this Jesus guy.  They understand his object lesson.  It’s obvious.  But instead of repenting, instead of allowing themselves to be changed, instead of even allowing for the possibility of another, easier, way, they react in anger.  By golly, they knew the way to Harrisonburg and nobody was going to tell them any different!
Jesus isn’t tricking the chief priests and elders and he isn’t damning them either.  Notice that Jesus doesn’t say they won’t get into God’s kingdom.  He says that others will get there before them.  It’s a sort of last-ditch shock-therapy approach by Jesus, who is trying, desperately, to move them . . . to turn them . . . to get them to turn themselves in another direction . . . that’s repentance . . .

Turning . . .

Away from the direction of bondage
into the direction of freedom
Away from the direction of self
into the direction of God . . .

One brother changed his mind
the other brother changed
and the chief priests and elders didn’t change at all.

They’re all kingdom-bound.
I wonder if they’ll be happy there.
I wonder if even heaven will be enough.

***

If you'd like to listen to the sermon or read it in its entirety, click on the McDowell Presbyterian link on the right and go to 'Podcast' for the audio or 'Sermon of the Week' for the text.