Mark 4:1-20 - January 14, 2024

Last week at the beginning of the sermon, I mentioned we were through the Christmas season and on to Jesus’ life. But now, I’ve changed my mind a bit. I want you to think back to Christmas Eve, way back to 2023, and remember the sermon then. For those who weren’t here or have already forgotten, I talked about finding ourselves in that Christmas story. Which character are we? Then, the shock that we aren’t any of those characters! We’re us! And that’s still Good News. 

That question, “Which one are we?” occurs often as we read through the Bible. It especially gets brought up whenever Jesus’ parables roll around, too. And while I had a brief thought of just pulling out that Christmas sermon and changing all the “birth” references to seeds and soil, I knew it just wouldn’t flow right. 

Parables often draw us in. They urge us to find our place in the story to teach us, to change us, to show us the Kingdom of God. And few parables draw us into a role like the Parable of the Sower. 

And no, I’m not going to tell you that we’re not in this parable. Of course, we are. But before we get to that point, to really hear this parable, we need to forget everything we think we know about it. 

See, there are two halves to this scene. In the first, Jesus tells a parable. In the second, he explains that parable. 

And over the years, we have been conditioned to not really listen to the actual parable, because, well, Jesus explains it to us. And if Jesus explains it to us, then we don’t really need to think about it all that much. I’ll just take his word for you, you know? He’s probably pretty trustworthy. 

As he explains it, we’ve got the well-trodden path where the seeds are snatched away like snacks by the birds. We have rocky terrain, where the seeds sprout swiftly but wither away when the sun scorches them. There is the soil that is invaded by thorny distractions - where growth competes with the chaos of daily life. Last is the well-nourished, spiritually-aerated soil that takes the heavenly message to heart and produces a bumper crop. 

So, we already know what it means. It’s about being good soil. Right? It’s about figuring out what soil we are. Right?? It’s about the anxiety of a patch of dirt doing its very best to be thorn-free, bird-free, and too-much-sun-free. RIGHT?!? 

While this explanation is pretty tangible, it leaves us - me - wondering if I am good soil or not. I hope so, but I also know I’ve got some less desirable places in which to plant. 

And so, to find ourselves in this parable, we reflect on our own dirt. We see our hard parts. We see our thorns. We know we’re out in the sun too much. And the more we reflect, the more we start to see that we aren’t just a uniform plot of land; we are all types of dirt. We are rocky, we are thorny, we are well-trodden, we are good. 

Which is helpful and honest. It helps us to wrap our minds around this parable and find a place in it. But it still leaves me feeling more than a bit inadequate. How do I get better? I don’t know how to get rid of thorns or how to keep birds away. And Jesus doesn’t explain that part, does he? 

And that is what drives me back to the parable itself. In the parable, the focus isn’t on the patches of dirt; the focus is on the sower, the one spreading the seed. There is still a wide variety of soils, but the farmer doesn’t seem to notice. 

This farmer is throwing seeds everywhere – and I mean EVERYWHERE. Not just on good soil, but among the weeds and thorns, where the seed is sure to get choked; in shallow soil where it won’t take root; and even on the road where it doesn’t stand a chance. This is what this sower does – throws seed everywhere.

We live in a culture of relative abundance, so this careless sowing of seeds might not make much of an impression. But Jesus’ first-century hearers would definitely have noticed that this farmer isn’t simply heavy-handed but downright irresponsible. Seed was too valuable to scatter with such reckless abandon, and no farmer in his right mind would waste seed like that. 

Which is, of course, Jesus’ point. God isn’t like any other farmer. God is reckless with how God sows seeds - reckless with how God showers God’s people with grace. God doesn’t save it for the “good soil” people only, but God “wastes” it on the shallow, the hardened, the ones living among thorns. 

And so, what the parable tells us is that no matter who we are, where we are, no matter if we are being our thorny selves or get caught in well-worn ruts, God tosses grace our way, good news our way, handfuls of seemingly wasteful love just thrown willy-nilly all over us and around us. Apparently, God’s grace is for everyone, for all types of dirt. Which is good news, because we are all types of dirt.

Jesus gives us a parable and an explanation. And this is the wonderful thing about parables: they often have more than one interpretation. 

See, parables aren’t puzzles that have only one solution. Nor are they allegories where A always equals B, or one character is always you and another is always me. Parables aren’t neatly explained by one category or another. But what they do instead is give us clues into how God works, insights into what God is up to, and the hope that there is something bigger than we are. 

So, while we may glean from this parable that we are to be good soil and produce a harvest, the only way to do that is to trust in the promise of the parable - that ultimately it’s not up to us but up to God, the farmer who shows no restraint when it comes to sowing love. We can’t simply decide what kind of soil we will be, but we can trust in Jesus’ promise that God will keep sowing seeds, and God will keep showering us with grace, mercy, and love. 

And remembering that, believing that, having faith in what God is doing, then we receive this promise with joy, grow the seeds that God scatters on us, and yield a harvest of thirty, sixty, a hundredfold. Let anyone with ears, listen.