Good Soil (Reflections on Pentecost 5)

So this week it's Jesus' parable of the sower and the seed (Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23). You know this one: the guy goes out and scatters seed in the field. Some of it grows, some of it doesn't. I'm not that much into horticulture myself, having been an apartment-dweller for much of my adult life. Now that I'm a suburban guy, however, I have to deal with flower beds and lawns and such and I now know first hand that, yes, some stuff grows and some doesn't.

"The Sower" by Vincent Van Gogh



This parable puts me in mind of the days when I was extending my congregation's mission by serving as a volunteer chaplain at Aria Torresdale Hospital. On my rounds one afternoon I visited the room of a young man who had been injured in an automobile accident. The room was filled with family and well-wishers, but when the young patient saw me he asked his guests to step out for a few minutes so he could speak with me privately. I pulled a chair next to the bed where the youngster lay with is legs in what appeared to be very painful traction. He started to cry.

“Father,” he said, “I'm losing my faith.”

“Okay...” I said.

“I don't know why God is punishing me. What did I do wrong?”

He went on to detail a list of recent misfortunes which would've made anybody seriously depressed. I listened as carefully as I could while—like all chaplains, I'll bet—I desperately tried to think of something intelligent to say in response to all of this genuine pain. Here's what I came up with:

“So, you're saying that if you're living a good and virtuous life, God should reward you with good and virtuous things? Do I have that right?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And if you're a total jerk, God should punish you, right?”

“Right.”

“Well I'm glad you're losing your faith. Because that's not God you're believing in. That's Santa Claus. And—if that's the case—then I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.”

To be honest, I don't recall how that encounter ended as it was some years ago; nevertheless, meeting that young man got me to thinking about how we receive the word and promise of God. I'd be willing to bet that the world is filled with millions of really sweet people who, if they had to answer a survey, would call themselves Christians. They may have great credulity for the mystic. Perhaps they believe in divine intervention, in miracles, guardian angels, holy shrines, and all that happy stuff. But they just don't believe in it very often. That is, they have compartmentalized their faith, turning to eternal questions only when they are in crisis. They are the shallow soil in which it's difficult for a real, honest relationship with God to take root.

As a parish pastor I've seen so many people and families come and go over the years. There are some who are very faithful until the youngest child makes Confirmation and then, hasta la vista! That is to say, they figure they've done their duty to God, looking at their faith more like it's a transaction rather than a relationship. There are also those who come in with all guns blazing and then disappear just as suddenly. I suppose there are others who have “inherited” Christianity as a culture, rather like the European state churches. We'll see them faithfully at Christmas and Easter.

The comfort I take from this parable is that I have grown to expect that the seed of God's word is not going to take root everywhere all the time. The Church is always going to disappoint us in this respect, and I'm actually pretty okay with that. It's up to God to give the growth. I'm just called to spread the seed.

All the same, I can take comfort in knowing that some seeds are very slow in germinating. Like most teenagers, the great Christian apologist C.S. Lewis rejected the faith in which he was raised. It was only when he reached his early thirties, after he had been wounded in combat in World War I, had begun a career, and had taken on the responsibility for raising a fallen comrade's family that faith in Christ began to take root in his heart.

There's a great (and really easy-to-sing) praise song by Handt Hanson called Good Soil which has this lovely, prayerful lyric:

“Lord, let my heart be good soil, open to the seed of your word.”

Just as I get out my Miracle Grow for my suburban garden, I think there are ways we nourish the soil of our hearts. We prepare it through doubt and questioning. We prepare it through knowledge of scripture and Christian history. We fertilize our souls with prayer and meditation. And we practice patience. Nothing, not even faith, grows overnight.

There is an American agave plant at the University of Michigan Botanical Garden that is eighty years old and is only now flowering. Some people are like that plant. But that's cool. We love them for who they are anyway.

And I love that you took the time to read this post! That was so sweet of you. But.! I wonder if I could prevail upon you to read just a little more? Sometimes it take a while for a seed to take root. It's been over 50 years since the Lutheran/Roman Catholic Dialogues were started by Pope John XXIII and the Lutheran World Federation. Yes, we signed the Joint Declaration on Justification in 1999, but let's see if we can get even cozier than that. Have a look at my petition by clicking here.