Farmer church

Isaiah 55: 10-13; Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
July 13, 2014






I am a sucker for a pretty looking weed. In the spring, David would mow around buttercups and dandelions, wild violets and spring beauty so the girls would have flowers they could pick. Our front yard looked like a meadow rather than a lawn.

But it has to be pretty, you see. Yes, I think dandelions are pretty—up to a point. And the greens can be tasty. But I have no patience for wild mustard, clover, and a whole host of other weeds I can’t begin to identify that can take over a flower bed. But as we all know, weeding takes time and constant vigilance. If only weeds were more pleasing to the eye, I would have a garden full of them. And I wouldn’t mow ever again.

In the first years of our marriage when David and I lived in Ohio, we would go on a wildflower hike the first weekend in May, held at a local state park. Before we split into groups according to the strenuousness of the hike, our guides gave a slide show illustrating the various species of wildflowers we would be seeing. The first slide was invariably a dandelion. You could almost hear the inward reaction of disgust and frustration for these pernicious, proliferate yellow bombs. But then we would hear these words: “A weed is a wildflower with poor public relations.”





I think that if Jesus were telling the parable of the sower today, he just might champion the ungracious weeds of our gardens. Weeds are true underdogs, the bane of every landscaper and master gardener, and yet are they not also part of God’s creation?

My roots go down

Down to the earth

My roots go down

Down to the earth

My roots go down

Down to the earth

My roots go down

 

I would think that Jesus would want the word of the kingdom to be as rampant as a weed, like fluffy dandelion seeds on the wind—the lowly dandelion as a sower, as an image of God.

I am a dandelion blowing on the wind
I am a dandelion blowing on the wind
I am a dandelion blowing on the wind
My roots go down

I get it that this is a story about where the seed falls—the path, on rocky ground, among the thorns, or on good soil. Jesus had probably been talking his head off, wondering if anyone was paying attention. “Let anyone with ears listen! I’ve got kingdom words, seeds for a new life, God’s good news!” But this is also a story about the sower, about the One who is scattering these seeds of new life. The sower who goes out to plant seeds does so with prodigal abandon. The seeds are not solely tossed on perfect furrows of dark earth but everywhere: on the path, on the rocky ground, even amid the thorns.



Words of hope and grace and justice thrown on Israeli and Palestinian rocky ground—won’t take root there? God would have us do it anyway. Seeds of kindness, compassion, and care sown in the thorny lives of migrant children isn’t popular? UCC congregations in the Southern California Nevada Conference, New Mexico, and Oklahoma are doing it anyway. Filling up the gas tank of a deaf man with almost no teeth at 8:00 Thursday night during a worship committee meeting? For a brief moment he and I were on the same path, and God’s seeds of kindness fell upon that path. Maybe those seeds will break open and grow. Hopefully they’ll make a difference, maybe not. But I did it anyway. 

I am a wildflower pushing through stones
I am a wildflower pushing through stones
I am a wildflower pushing through stones
My roots go down 

Sometimes God gets great returns, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Sometimes the word goes out, God is still speaking, but it looks as though no one is paying attention. Yet God does not give up.


"Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
not come back empty-handed.
They’ll do the work I sent them to do,
they’ll complete the assignment I gave them."



 
 


Most of the time, when we speak of church growth, we think about the returns: how many people in worship, how many folks participating in education and volunteering for mission, how many new folks joined this year, how much money we give away, how much is in the bank. And those are all good things to keep track of, but they don’t define spiritual growth, which what Jesus is speaking of, of the word taking root in our lives, setting us free from worry.

I am a pine tree on a mountainside
I am a pine tree on a mountainside
I am a pine tree on a mountainside
My roots go down

What if we focused more on the seeds we plant and a little less on where the seeds get planted and what comes of it? What if we sowed seeds of kindness, compassion, peace and justice with the same prodigal abandon and left the returns to God? What if we offered words of invitation, welcome, and extravagant hospitality, each and every one of us, to any and to all, not for any reason other than all our lives might become whole and complete for the sake of the gospel? What if, at the beginning of the day, we asked God to make us like the mighty dandelion, sowing seeds of grace wherever we go, and at the end of the day, reflected on how it was that we were used to plant seeds for the kingdom, the beloved community of God? 





“So you’ll go out in joy,
you’ll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
exuberant with applause.
No more thistles, but giant sequoias,
no more thornbushes, but stately pines—
Monuments to me, to God,
a living and lasting witness of God.”

My roots go down 

Down to the earth
My roots go down
Down to the earth
My roots go down
Down to the earth
My roots go down

Amen.


"My Roots Go Down", words and music by Sarah Pirtle, © 1979 and 1989 Discovery Center Music BMI