Seed Scattering

Genesis 25: 19-34; Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23

FPC; 7-13-08

          As a child I lived for five years in a place called Glenn Springs, South Carolina; it was and is a beautiful area in the country just outside of Spartanburg.  Many of our activities were consistent with the rural environment in which we lived.  We didn’t have trash pickup services, for example, so we took our trash behind the house, dumped it into a large can or drum and burned it.  And, in our country community everybody had a garden.  As winter gave way to spring, the perennial question neighbors asked one another was not “will you have a garden this year?” but rather “how big is your garden going to be?” 

          It was during that five year period of my life that I learned a few lessons about agriculture. Lesson number one had to do with seed sowing and soil selection.  I learned that the best farmers carefully and deliberately choose the soil into which they scatter their seeds.  A good farmer knows better than to drop seed on a rocky path or throw seed into a briar patch where it stands little chance of rooting and producing fruit.      

          But, in the parable Jesus tells, that is what the farmer does.  Suffice it to say his farming technique leaves a lot to be desired.  I would never suggest we lift that farmer up as an example to be followed, except for the fact that the farmer Jesus has in mind is God.  The seeds being scattered are the seeds of God’s love.  

          God is like a child holding a dandelion in her hand.  She raises that flower to her mouth and blows upon that flower so that its seeds go in all directions.  God generously disperses the seeds of his love. 

          Sometimes the seeds fall upon hearts that are so hardened by resentment or guilt that they fail to take root.   At other times, the seeds fall upon lives filled with the joy of becoming a Christian believer. But then the reality of the costliness of God’s grace results in the evaporation of the joy and the seeds of God’s love remain unnourished, dormant.    

          But there are other people with soil that is rich; people whose hearts readily receive God’s love and nourish it with a life of devotion.  The people of whom I’m speaking allow that love to define their lives, even stake their lives upon it and give that love permission to produce an abundant harvest of heavenly deeds.

          The community to which Matthew wrote was primarily composed of Jewish Christians.   The prevailing notion was that one must earn God’s favor.  But the unconventional and radical message of Jesus, directed first to that Jewish Christian community and now to us, is that God’s love is unmerited, not up for purchase, but freely and lavishly given.  The dispersal of God’s seeds of love does not depend on the soil and whether or not the soil will produce good fruit. 

          At the end of Jesus’ explanation of the parable he says, “Let anyone with ears listen!” 

          Listen to the footsteps of God as God approaches you in love.  Listen and find joy in the experience of the Divine Farmer reaching into your life and mine, not with scrutiny or discrimination, but with unbiased and limitless mercy, dropping his seeds of wondrous grace into our lives.    

          I’m thinking the unorthodox techniques of the farmer should be our techniques.  I’m thinking that God’s way of lavishly scattering the seeds of God’s love, mercy and forgiveness should be our way.  I’m thinking that we should be planting seeds of love even when we cannot predict whether or not the seeds we plant today will bear fruit in the days to come. 

          The man with gray, thinning hair is wearing a charcoal colored cardigan as he reaches for the shelves at the top of the book case.  Gripping two or three books in his hands, he pivots to the desk behind him.  He looks at the desk top and identifies the box labeled “Shakespeare”; he raises the books over the flaps and stacks them inside.  Then, he hears a light tap upon the frosted glass of his open office door.   Lifting his eyes, he sees a young woman who appears to be in her early thirties.  “Hi, Professor McIlroy, do you remember me?”  

          Resting his finger on his forehead, he searches his memory bank, trying to find the name that goes with that pretty face.  Haltingly, he then speaks, “Aren’t you Sarah?  Didn’t I have you for Creative Writing?  Didn’t you sit on the front row? 

          “Yes,” she says in response.  Then, wearing a big smile on her face, she pulls an item from a satchel she is carrying.  “Here, I want you to have this.” she says.  As he accepts the box dressed in wrapping paper, she says to him in a quivering voice, “As you look forward to your retirement, I just wanted to say thank you.” 

          With that, she turns to exit.  But before she leaves, he asks, “Sarah, what is it you do?”  “Oh, I’m a teacher, just like you.” 

          You never know when seeds of love we plant today might take root in some else’s life and produce fruit tomorrow.  You never know when someone might become profoundly influenced by the lessons you teach and the love you share.  You never know when someone might one day model their life after yours;  so you just keep teaching, keep sharing, keep profusely loving as God loves. 

          We are called to plant like God plants.  We are called to be less selective and more lavish, less scrutinizing and more non-discriminate in the way we love and care for others.   

          “Let anyone with ears listen!”

          One week during the summer, a woman, her husband and their two year old boy were at Montreat for a conference.  During one of the breaks, the parents took their son to the playground.  Earlier in the day, they had allowed him to pick a treat at the local toy store.  He had chosen a package of soccer ball stickers.  He was thrilled with them and would not let them out of his hands.  When they got to the playground he wanted to share them with the other kids.  The mother watched as her little boy went tirelessly from one person to another offering his precious soccer ball stickers.  He was so thrilled with them that he wanted to share them.  A few pre-school children were equally thrilled with them and were delighted to accept his gift.  But the school age kids had out grown stickers.  They had walls to climb and a creek to play in; his presence and gift were unwelcomed and they ignored him. There were a few teenagers savvy enough to know that he wanted them to have one and so they politely accepted even though they didn’t really value the gift.  The adults were the most clueless.  They were emphatic, insisting that he keep them for himself.  But the little boy seemed undaunted.  He was a little perplexed when they didn’t see the value and wonder of the stickers, but he kept on offering them anyway.  He kept on until he had none left but the one he had planted on his own shirt earlier in the day.  When the stickers were all gone, he was delighted-absolutely delighted as he ran to his Mom and Dad pointing out those people decorated with his small tokens of care.[1] 

          In my mind’s eye I can see God blowing dandelions, absolutely delighted as the seeds of his love travel wherever the winds of his Spirit take them.  Before scattering the seed, this Farmer doesn’t ask whether or not the soil will accept them; his gifts are not determined by the response of those who receive them.   

          Perhaps you can find a field somewhere full of dandelions.  Why don’t you pick one, blow upon it and watch with absolute delight as the seeds scatter. Watch as God’s  love disperses into the world through your witness of faith and love.  Watch as our indiscriminate sowing produces an abundant harvest that far exceeds anything we could possibly imagine.