Psalm 65.1-4; Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23
I am the hard-beaten soil, and couldn’t care less … God’s Word comes to me, like seed sown by a farmer … sown without regard, without precision … sown generously, graciously … seed, flung far and wide …
Some falls on the hard-beaten soil of my heart - self-centered as I am, and broken, in a lot of places … the good seed falls on the hard-beaten soil, bounces and rolls, and comes to a stop, going nowhere, and I could’t care less.
The birds feast on the seed … and that’s good for the birds … and maybe they say thanks, in their own way, and maybe they don’t …
when the seed is gone, the birds take flight to another field … and that’s that, no fuss, no muss … I am the hard-beaten soil, and I couldn’t care less.
I am the rocky soil … stones and dried up weeds … the seed flung high and wide by the generous farmer falls my way, amidst the rocks and dried up weeds …
the seeds find a home for awhile, sink a root, but in no time at all, it’s a shallow business, and when the sun comes out, bright and hot, those seeds and their roots are baked into dust … and that’s that, no fuss, no muss … and I couldn’t care less.
I am the soil with the thorns … hard, prickly thorns … some of the good seed falls there and takes root, but the thorns grow up hard and fast - the good seeds are choked to death by the thorns …
cares and worries overwhelm, fears and frustrations gnaw away at my soul, doubts and cloudy memories … so many things distress and disturb, distract and detract … and maybe I do care, a little.
I am the good soil … and there’s plenty of good soil … good soil for the seed sown generously by God … good soil, where the seed takes root …
the good soil’s been there from the beginning, like an Iowa corn field, where the loam is eight feed deep and rich with nutrients …
good soil, from the moment of my birth … the church of Jesus Christ … grandparents and great grandparents fluent in the language of faith, the hymns of the church, the prayers of the saints, Reformed and Lutheran … not a perfect family, but a family, nonetheless, where faith lived, and God was honored …
And I do care, and I’m grateful … because the Word of God has produced, I’d like to think, a good and generous harvest … though parts of my life are hard and shallow and full of thorns, there’s another part of my life, the larger part of my life, and your life, too, where the harvest is plentiful, where the seed of God’s Word has taken root, and grows well …
and I do care, I care a lot, I care about the things of God … I care about this world, and how it’s going … I care about my place in the world - as a servant of Christ, a minister ordained in the life and purpose of the Presbyterian church … I care …
I care how I live, and how I think … I care about my values, and how I vote … I care about the prayers I offer, for myself my family, for the nation, for the world, and this church and our presbytery … I care a lot, about what I read and how I study, and how I write my sermons … the good soil of my life …
lots of it, plenty of it, acres of it.
Each one of us is like that farmer’s field … the hard-beaten pathways, where the birds are fed … the shallow rocky soil where the seed springs up, and then dies quickly under the burdens of the day … and the thorns, plenty of those: my sins, your sins … the sins of the mothers and the fathers, the sins of the nation, and the sins of the world …
But always the good soil, plenty of it … with an abundant harvest … a glorious harvest … Jesus exaggerates beyond reality on this one … a hundredfold harvest is simply impossible … so is sixty, and even a fortyfold harvest would be a wonder …
Jesus exaggerates because he’s talking about the work of God.
God’s love is always greater than we can imagine, more than we can calculate … a love surpassing all the means of measurement … and in this love, we find our way … and learn the power of saying Thanks!
If the church has a purpose, it’s this: to say thanks … thanks be to God … for creation, for Christ, for the cross and our redemption … for the hope that is ours in Christ … for the good soil of our soul.
The Psalmist says it well:
Praise is due to you, O God, in Zion; and to you shall vows be performed …
Mary Oliver, the poet, says it well:
I can’t remember
every spring,
I can’t remember
everything —
so many years!
Are the morning kisses
the sweetest
or the evenings
or the inbetweens?
All I know
Is that “thank you” should appear
somewhere.
So, just in case
I can’t find
the perfect place —
“Thank you, thank you.”
Whatever the future holds for Westminster, let Westminster make a vow, here and now, forever and a day - Westminster Presbyterian Church will be a place of thanksgiving …
Where the complaints of the world are balanced by the hope of the Gospel …
Where the disappointments of life are healed by the promises of God …
Where greed is challenged by the power of generosity … the desire to accumulate is offset by simpler living … where less is more, and more just isn’t needed.
At one point on our recent trip, we walked by a store, and for a moment we thought we’d stop in, and then I said, “Nothing of interest,” and we walked on …
In Portugal, I wrote this note: Eating a peach this morning, juice on my chin, dripping into the sink, I thought: "I'm eating a miracle." A seed, a tree, sunshine, and from the earth, the tree draws forth moisture and elements, and puts it all together to create a peach, full of juice, sweetness, and pleasure.
Our world suffers under the weight of accumulation, misplaced priorities, the failure to eat a peach.
We need to better manage our wants, so we can do a better job with our needs - the material needs of millions - clean water, adequate nutrition, shelter and safety … the social needs of acceptance and affirmation … access to education and opportunity.
In those parts of the world world where the material needs are met, the spiritual needs are too easily disregarded: our need for love, for hope, forgiveness, peace of mind, and a genuine sense of purpose … our need for something more than the one life we have.
Dear friends in Christ, we are what we are … a field of dreams … yet even a field of dreams has its share of thorns and thistles, rocks and weeds, shallow soil and hard-beaten pathways …
But enough good soil, more than enough, where the word of God finds a home, where the love of God grows an abundant harvest, an impossible harvest - a harvest of faith, hope, and love.
The Psalmist put it like this: We shall be satisfied with the goodness of your house, your holy temple.
Hallelujah and Amen!
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