This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa, on June 17, 2018. It’s based on Mark 4:26-34 and Psalm 92:1-4, 12-15. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
Mark 4:26-34
26[Jesus] said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground,27and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. 28The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. 29But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”
30He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? 31It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; 32yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
33With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; 34he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.
I loved my three summers working at Luther Park Bible Camp outside of Chetek, Wisconsin. In fact, I would say that my experiences there certainly paved the way to my becoming a pastor. But I’ll never forget my first summer, trying to develop a covenant (I think) as part of our staff training, when we spent what felt like forever discussing (some might say arguing) whether we scatter seeds or plant seeds in the lives of our campers and in the lives of one another. Scatter or plant? Scatter or plant? Or was it sow or plant? Who knows? I didn’t really care then, and I don’t necessarily care now.
Except, that in our gospel text for this morning, Jesus lands on the side of scatter…and sow (which is defined as planting by scattering), so maybe we were all right.
“The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know now.”
And, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
I think the argument we had at camp revolved around intention and control. Those arguing for planting seeds appreciated the intention behind planting. They saw it as more precise, more thoughtful than simply scattering seeds. But those arguing for scattering, recognized and wanted to emphasize the way in which we really have little control when it comes to seed-sowing. We do our best. We throw out love and kindness and generosity, but we don’t really know how, or if, it will grow up in the lives of those with whom we interact. Chances are pretty good that we’re not going to end up with neat, orderly rows.
It seems like maybe Jesus, too, wanted to emphasize how little control we have over the growing of the kingdom of God. Someone scatters seed—yes—but that someone doesn’t know how the seed sprouts and grows. The sprouting and the growing—that’s entirely up to God. We are not needed for sprouting and growing of faith, hope, and love. God takes care of that. We simply scatter the seeds.
And maybe there are times not even that much is necessary. In the parable of the mustard seed, that seed is simply sown. There’s no someone sowing it, no someone sleeping and rising and not knowing how it grows. It just is.
I love Professor Matt Skinner’s commentary1 on this parable of the mustard seed:
This is not the kind of crop most people would sow. Where Jesus lived, mustard was prolific like a common and sturdy weed. It could pop up almost anywhere and start multiplying. Some of Jesus’ listeners must have groaned or chuckled. Imagine him speaking today of thistles or ground-ivy. But bigger. And more useful, since mustard has a range of medicinal qualities. In any case, the reign of God apparently isn’t much of a cash crop. Yet it grows. It is not easily eradicated. Good luck keeping it out of your well manicured garden or your farmland. Better be careful what you pray for when you say, “Your kingdom come…
–Matt Skinner
Sometimes we have a part to play in scattering seeds; sometimes they’re sown without any effort on our part at all. But always, the sprouting and the growing up of God’s kingdom is God’s work. We know, as Martin Luther reminds us, that “God’s kingdom comes on its own without our prayer, but we ask in this prayer that it may also come to us.”2 Thy kingdom come.
As I was walking on the Trout Run Trail recently, observing not only all the carefully planted seeds sprouting and growing, but also all the seeds sown by the wind, planted not by human hands…I wrote a song that I’d like to share with you now.
I didn’t have our gospel reading in mind at the time, so you’ll see that I’ve used the word scatter in a very different sense and I talk about planting seeds. So I may have some editing to do in the future. But for now, I hope it helps you recognize the seeds you’re scattering in the lives of others, even when you feel like you’re not accomplishing much at all. And I hope it helps you trust that God will bring those seeds to sprout and to grow.
I hope it might also give you an opportunity to be grateful for all the seeds that have been planted in your life, and by the grace of God have sprouted and grown to become safe spaces to nest, sheltered from the heat of the day.
Safe spaces to live and dwell, secure and succulent.
Safe spaces to return to when the way ahead is frightening.
Safe spaces to herald God’s love in the morning and God’s faithfulness at night.
Safe spaces from which to scatter seeds of peace, joy, and justice in the lives of God’s people, so that all God’s beloved children might have safe spaces to nest, to raise their young, to dwell secure.
You received this song as you entered today.3 I invite you to follow along as I sing. The third verse begins on the last line of the first page. I’ll repeat that verse at the very end, and I’ll invite you to join me in singing it then.
Just one warm embrace can scatter cold of winters yet to come. Just one word becomes a compass point that guides the journey home. Just one song you played makes me brave now and evermore. How will you know the difference you have made?
Just one prayer kept me from sinking; you roped my faith to yours. When I had no heart for singing, my voice became yours. You knew that in the silence there was healing power untold. You held me close and helped new hope unfold.
How do we begin to measure what is hidden and unseen? There’s no formula, no recipe, just this landscape filled with green. All the seeds you planted rising up, breaking through dry ground. Fields of love, filling this world round.
I know you cannot see it now; I know you feel unsure. You wonder what you’re doing here; you wish your path was clear. But here’s the thing I know for sure, the truth to which I cling. We are the body, are the heartbeat, of our living God. And even now God’s love is breaking ground. Through you and me God’s love is breaking ground.
How do we begin to measure what is hidden and unseen? There’s no formula, no recipe, just this landscape filled with green. All the seeds you planted rising up, breaking through dry ground. Fields of love, filling this world round.
Fields of love, filling this world round.
Amen.
1 Read Matt Skinner’s commentary at http://www.workingpreacher.org.
2 Small Catechism of Martin Luther: The Second Petition of the Lord’s Prayer.
3 Here’s a copy of the song for you to use as you wish. Thanks to my sister, Jill Powers, for helping me get the notes on paper! Now to work on an accompaniment! Pretty sure that’s beyond my skill set!