Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost


Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (A—Proper 10)
July 16, 2017
Text: Matt. 13:1-9, 18-23
            Jesus is the Sower.  The Seed is the Word.  You are the soil.  Jesus sows His Word into your ears, and so into your mind and heart and soul.  This is the meaning of the parable.  A parable, you have been told, is an earthly story with a heavenly meaning.  Okay.  But if that is the case, Jesus paints Himself and His Father as reckless fools by any earthly standard.  The economy of the Kingdom is not like the economy of this world.  That’s just the point.  God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, and His ways are not our ways.  The sower in our Holy Gospel is reckless.  He’s wasteful.  He throws the seed every which way, knowing that some will be picked off by birds, scorched by the sun, and choked by the thorns.  I’m no farmer.  Nor am I a betting man.  But if I was, I’d bet you dollars to doughnuts John Leendertsen at least tries to hit the field when he sows his seed.  He’s not in the business of feeding the birds or padding the pavement with wheat and garbanzos.  He’s strategic.  He’s careful.  He plans ahead.  He sows where he knows there is good soil, where his crops have the most likely chance to bear fruit.  There’s a great design in all of this.  It’s what I love about the Palouse.  You drive past the wheat fields and somehow all the stalks are orderly.  They’ve grown up in their place like soldiers on a parade ground, and when they dance in the wind it is a beautiful thing to behold. 
            If Jesus worked for John, He wouldn’t last through the first planting.  Helter-skelter, He casts His Seed.  He intentionally throws it where it would take a miracle for it to grow and bear fruit.  He sends His preachers.  He plants His Church.  And when all is said and done, His harvest doesn’t look all that great.  You know this.  The Church does not appear to be prospering these days.  Not in the West, anyway.  The cathedrals of Europe sit empty, and the congregations in America are shrinking.  And here we are starting a mission Church.  In enemy territory, no less, a university town.  And who knows what will happen?  We’re here by faith, not because we have some insight into the best place to plant a Church or a surefire method for making the Church grow.  Here Jesus scatters His Seed.  He sends a preacher.  He plants His Church.  Right here and now in Moscow.  On C street.  And against all the advice of those who know and the best of human wisdom, we’re trusting what God says through the Prophet Isaiah, that the Word He so haphazardly casts will not return to Him empty, but will accomplish His purpose and succeed in the thing for which He sends it (Is. 55:11).  And it does.  You’re here.  You hear the voice of your Shepherd and you gather around His preaching.  He washes away your filth and feeds you from His Table.
            Well then, you must be the good soil from the parable… Good, Missouri Synod Lutheran soil.  But not so fast.  Do you really think that in all His reckless casting, Jesus got lucky and found His target when He hit you?  You understand, right, that if that’s how you interpret this parable, you’re saying there’s a quality about you that’s better than all those other schmucks who are the bad soils where the Word cannot grow up and bear fruit.  In other words, you’re saying there is some merit or worthiness in you that moves God to save you.  You do play some part in your salvation.  This is the Roman Catholic idea of preparing yourself for grace, or the Protestant idea that you make your decision for Jesus or give your heart to Him.  But it’s not very Missouri Synod Lutheran of you.  Here’s the point.  When Jesus describes the path and the rocky and the thorny soil, He’s describing you.  What are the things that can keep the Word from taking deep root in us and bearing fruit?  First of all, Jesus teaches us that there is an evil one, the devil, who delights to come and snatch away the Word from us.  He and his demons are constantly assaulting us with temptations and accusations, fear and doubt.  “God can’t really love you.  Not after the things you’ve done.”  Then there are the rocks, the trials and tribulations of this earthly life that scorch faith when it gets hot.  It’s easy to be a Christian when things are going well.  When life gets tough, the temptation is to stop going to Church.  Or, think bigger than just our first world problems.  It’s easy to be a Christian when you aren’t under threat of beheading or crucifixion just because you’re baptized.  It’s a great temptation when you can escape persecution just by renouncing Jesus.  Just a simple, “Jesus is accursed,” and you’re free to go.  And of course, there are the thorns, which are a particularly affluent American temptation.  These are the cares of that choke out the Word.  “I have so much to do, I can’t possibly come to Church.”  “Sunday is my only day to relax.”  “God helps those who help themselves (incidentally, a phrase which is not in the Bible and is absolutely opposed to the Gospel), so I have to make as much money as I can, save up that rainy day fund, make sure my family and I are provided for.  I’ll think about spiritual matters later.  I have other things to do now.”  And so it goes. 
            Do you hear yourself in any of that?  The birds?  The rocks?  The thorns?  You should.  You should hear yourself in all of the above in some way.  Beloved, you are not good soil.  Not in and of yourself.  Repent.  Repent of thinking you’re better prepared for God’s grace than others.  Repent of all the things that prevent the Word from taking deep root in you so that faith grows up and produces fruit.  Repent, and know that you are here by God’s free gift, by Jesus’ reckless sowing of His Word even on you, so that by an extraordinary miracle of His mercy, even you have received His Word through your ears, and it’s taken deep root in you so that you believe in Jesus Christ, your Savior.  And in leading you by that Word to repentance and faith, He’s plowed the soil, driven away the birds, cleared out the rocks and thorns and made you good soil, by grace.
            “(F)aith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17; ESV).  Faith is what grows up from Jesus’ planting His Word in you.  So notice that faith itself is God’s free gift to you, bestowed on you in the Word.  It’s not a decision you’ve made or an emotion you’ve stirred up within yourself.  Faith is not something you get by your own effort.  It is planted in you, by God, in His Word.  Jesus gives you ears to hear.  Jesus gives you faith to believe.  It is all His work.  Faith, then, as it grows and matures, bears fruit.  That fruit is works of love.  Now, you are saved by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone, apart from works.  There is no question about that.  But faith is never alone.  It is always busy loving its neighbor.  Now, not everybody bears the same fruit, or even the same amount of fruit.  Some yields a hundredfold, another sixty, and another thirty.  But they all bear fruit, and they are all saved, not because of their fruit, but by grace through faith in Christ.  What it all comes down to, though… the common denominator of it all, is the Word Jesus plants even in you
            He plants His Word first by the water of Holy Baptism.  Even in newborn babies.  Talk about reckless.  And even in newborn babies that Seed grows into faith, and as it matures it will bear fruit.  He plants it in preaching and in Scripture.  He plants it here at the Supper.  What do we so often pray in the post-Communion collect?  That we would grow in faith toward God and fervent love toward one another.  And what does that Word do in all the forms in which it is planted in us?  What is God’s purpose for which He sends it?  It gives you Jesus and all His benefits.  It gives you Jesus, the Word made flesh.  Just as Jesus was preached by the angel into the ear of the Virgin Mary and took root in her womb, so Jesus is preached into your ear and takes root in your heart, mind, and soul.  The Word delivers Jesus.  It takes you into Jesus and puts Jesus into you.  It gives you His death.  Your sins are forgiven.  It gives you His resurrection.  You are saved and you have eternal life.  The Word is the vehicle of the Holy Spirit.  It is that by which He comes to you and dwells in you and creates faith in Christ and produces the fruits of faith, which is love.  The Word restores you to the Father.  God’s own child, I gladly say it.  Our Father who art in heaven, we pray.  It is a creative Word.  “Let there be…” and there is.  It is a performative Word.  “I forgive you all your sins…” and they are. 
            Recklessly sown, this good news is.  And it really does what He promises.  It’s a miracle.  It’s a miracle that this sorry bunch of sinners that we are has been gathered in this place to be forgiven and declared righteous and fed and nourished and called saints of God.  The Word does that.  This is Jesus throwing His Seed to the four winds.  Pentecost is “the green season of the Church Year.”  We grow in the Word.  We grow in faith.  We grow in love.  Jesus does it, recklessly casting His Seed. 

            But as it turns out, His recklessness is not as chaotic as it first appears.  He meant it to hit the path and the rocks and the thorns.  He meant it to fall upon you and sink in and make the bad soil good.  From all eternity this was His plan, that you… yes, you… receive His Word, have it planted within you so that it takes deep root and grows up into a living and fruit-bearing faith.  He wants you for His own.  He will have you, even at the cost of His precious life.  He loves you.  He has engraved you on the palms of His nailed-pierced hands.  You are His.  And not even the demons can snatch you away from Him.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son (+), and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.               

No comments:

Post a Comment