Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23 - July 16, 2023

The Parable of the Sower always gives those listening a dirty mind. 

We all want to figure out which soil we are. Are we good soil? Are we rocky? Weedy? What kind of soil are we? 

And for the most part, we might feel like we’re good soil. Maybe not the premium, organic stuff one pays high dollar for, but decent dirt. But, the more we reflect, the more we start to notice those other places - the places that are trampled. The areas that are a bit shallow and rocky. The weeds that we should probably spend a little time pulling up.  

Because our journeys of faith aren’t through just one type of soil. There are paths and rocks, birds and weeds, good soil and that which is barren. The soils of my life don’t seem to be as separate and distinguished from each other as Jesus makes it sound. They all are part of me, my life, my faith. 

And I’d guess that your life is probably very similar to mine in that way. Our lives aren’t compartmentalized with clear boundaries and areas; instead, our lives are like actual land - they change. Each patch of soil we encounter brings with it its own difficulties, yet its own comforts. 

First, there are the paths in our lives. The paths of routine are nicely worn in. They’ve been there for years - so trodden that any seed dropped there surely will be trampled or eaten and doesn’t stand a chance. However, those seeds on our path can be a bit scary because, well, if they DO grow, we’d be forced to forge new pathways, forced out of our comfortable path to somewhere new. God’s Word often challenges what we hold as routine. It calls us to new ways of living and new ways of doing. And nearly as often, we continue on the well-worn paths of our lives. 

There are also places of shallow, rocky soil. These are places that, unlike our comfortable paths, jostle us around a bit. They quickly make us forget God’s Word is planted all around us. There are big rocks and little rocks, rocks of sadness, rocks of loss, rocks of pain. These rocks keep us on our toes, for sure, but they also keep our faith shallow. The rocks keep our faith from getting too much of a grip on our lives, and maybe that’s ok in our minds. Because without those deep, penetrating roots, it’s easy to pluck out any of the unwanted things God’s Word calls us to do and be. 

Then there are the weeds and thorns of our lives. Weeds choke out the life of the seeds. The weeds overtake God’s Word in our lives; they attract the attention and kill off the seed of faith God wants to grow. There are weeds… so many weeds that choke out faith. Weeds of fear, doubt, and anxiety. Weeds of illusion, grandeur, and pseudo-salvation. Weeds of negativity, weeds of apprehension, weeds that stagnate growth. And no matter how much pulling, pruning, and picking we do, these weeds grab ahold and squeeze the life out of what God calls us to. 

And then, despite all those other things, there still is good soil, too. This soil is ready and willing, soil that is ready to receive God’s Word and respond appropriately, soil that is tilled and will produce. 

And of course, God is here, sowing seed over all areas and aspects of our life. Sure, some will fall on our routines or land in the midst of our weeds, but some will grow. So, we shouldn’t look at our lives as being only one type of dirt; because it’s not, we’re not. Our lives of faith contain all aspects of this parable.

And yet, as much as I say that, we still want to be better soil. We still want some tips and ticks to get rid of the hard, rocky, weedy places and have more room for good soil in our lives. We so desperately want to be good soil, because, you know, it’s good, right? 

Well, a couple of things about this. 

First, good. It’s good to want to be better. But also, do you notice that growth is literally happening all the time and all around, despite what the terrain looks like? Walk down any sidewalk and you’ll notice growth in the cracks - grass, tree roots, flowers, and more. Growth is happening even in the places we as humans try our very best to keep it out. Such is the power of God to bring growth. 

Even if a seed gets eaten by a bird, that doesn’t necessarily mean that seed’s journey is over. Such is the power of God to bring growth.

Our lives and our faith may not be 100% good soil, but that doesn’t mean God doesn’t bring growth. In the rocky parts, in the weedy parts, in the routine and well-worn parts, God works to bring the harvest. Such is the power of God to bring growth.

No matter what, there are places in each area of our lives where we can see signs of God’s kingdom, despite the soil, despite whatever concrete or asphalt we pave over. God takes our dirt, our soil, our rocks and weeds, and God makes it holy ground. God makes it holy ground.

And here’s the second thing: I don’t have much of a green thumb, but I do know good soil isn’t just good because it was created that way. Good soil takes work. Good soil is soil that has been broken. Good soil has been tilled and worked and raked, dug up and broken up, plowed through and *ahem* fertilized, if you catch my drift. Good soil is made through rough, tough, stinky things. 

So that good soil in your life? It wasn’t just there. It was made through God working in the hard places. And this brokenness that we try to hide, this turned up dirt within us that we think disqualifies us in some way from being good soil - this brokenness is the very thing that allows God’s seeds, God’s Word, God’s love to take root in us. 

Good soil starts out as hardened, rocky, weed-filled soil.  Whatever soil we are today or were yesterday or will be tomorrow - we trust that God isn’t giving up on us.  Are there areas where we are broken? That is a chance for God to plant a seed.  And while God does work in ways to till up good soil in us, for the most part, God is just looking for an opportunity, tossing seeds on whatever soil our lives may be.

God, the holy horticulturist, has ways of preparing the soil of our souls. At baptism, we were given God’s living water to nourish seeds of faith and we were planted firmly in God’s family. In the communion meal, God feeds us, fertilizes our faith with Christ’s body and blood, strengthening, empowering, forgiving, enabling us to grow and live lives of faith. In this community, we have others who help us through rocky trials and pull weeds of fear and doubt. These people remind us, week in and week out, that God is working. God is getting dirt under fingernails, moving rocks, pulling weeds, throwing seeds, and breaking up our soil. God is preparing us for the kingdom. 

Our call as those who are redeemed by Jesus Christ is to help cultivate ourselves, our friends, our society, and our world so God’s kingdom will continue to take root and grow. Here at St. Philip, God keeps tilling our soil for growth, growth in new ways, growth which will have us on new paths, growth that maybe starts in the midst of weeds, growth that will come because God is doing the planting. We may not see how it will happen or think we should plant seeds over there, but God is working. God is planting. God will do it. 

Even in our weedy, rocky lives, God’s harvest comes – life springs forth even out of the most difficult of circumstances: trodden paths, paved sidewalks, empty tombs. Our lives are in God’s hands, and God has one heck of a green thumb.