And the seeds that fell on the good soil represent honest, good-hearted people who hear God’s word, cling to it, and patiently produce a huge harvest. [Luke 8:15 (NLT)]
When Hurricane Irma uprooted trees here last September, the underground irrigation pipes throughout our 1,800 home community were wrenched out of the soil and the lines ruptured. Trees and stumps had to be removed before the process of finding and fixing the leaks could begin and we went more than seven months without irrigation. What with winter and spring’s hotter than average temperatures, receiving about half of our average rainfall since November, and no working irrigation system in our community, the once lush green grass became dry and brown, the flowers wilted, and the parched soil got hard. The only things that seemed to thrive were the weeds! Fortunately, the repairs were completed last week, the summer rain eventually will arrive, and our grass, shrubbery and trees will recover.
Seeing how our once good soil became so hard and dry made me think about Jesus’ parable of the four soils in which the soils represent the sort of people who receive the seed of God’s word. One was the hard dry soil of a footpath where the birds quickly snatched away the seed. Because the second soil was rocky, the plants’ roots were shallow and they withered and died in the hot sun. The third seed was sown among the weeds that crowded out the new growth. It was only in the fertile fourth soil that the seeds produced a good crop. Although this parable tells us that not everyone will be receptive to God’s message, perhaps, there’s more to it.
When looking at our parched ground, I realize that unless it is cultivated, watered, and fertilized, good soil will not remain that way. Like the fourth soil, we can receive God’s word with enthusiasm but, unless it is well tended, our faith will suffer. Worry, busyness, or discontent can crowd out our enthusiasm and commitment the way thorny weeds do in an untended garden. If we don’t keep feeding our soil with God’s word, like the plants sown on the rocky soil, our roots can wither and die because of things like regret, troubles, doubt or unforgiveness. When we let failure, complaint, anger, or temptation give the enemy a foothold, he can snatch away our faith faster than a sparrow can a sunflower seed on a footpath. We may have been good soil when we accepted Jesus but, at various times in our lives, we can become any one of those other soils. I’m not a gardener, but even I know that it takes work to keep a garden productive. We must continue to fertilize with prayer, cultivate with a community of faith, and water with God’s word if we want to bear fruit in God’s garden.
Although Jesus was explaining to His disciples why people responded as they did to Him, His parable is more than a lesson about evangelism or gardening. It’s a reminder that good soil can go bad. We must continue to tend the soil in our spiritual garden lest Satan steals the word, we stop believing when troubles arise, or the cares of the day leave no room for His word to grow.
While talking with a friend, I mentioned how many people of our generation seem unprepared for the challenges of widowhood. Having relinquished certain responsibilities to their spouses during the decades of marriage, they’re ill-equipped when they lose that spouse. There are men who have no idea how to do laundry, grocery shop, clean the bathroom or use the microwave. On the other hand, many of my women friends have never done minor repairs, paid bills, made an investment or purchased a car. “That was me!” replied my friend whose husband died of cancer. His death, while unwelcome, was not unexpected so I asked why they hadn’t prepared her for widowhood. “He tried to,” she said, “but I wouldn’t listen.” As long as they didn’t talk about his imminent passing and her future life without him, she still could deny its reality.
Seasoned travelers know the worst place to exchange their money is at the airport. With no easy option to get local currency, the unsuspecting tourist gets the worst exchange rates at the highest fees. Seasoned travelers also don’t buy suntan lotion or Dramamine onboard the cruise ship or a face mask and goggles at the ski shop on top of the mountain. Knowing their customers are desperate for their products, those shops tend to gouge them with inflated prices.
Imagine the anguish of the woman with the blood disorder. Because Levitical law declared that anyone who touched her would be considered unclean, she’d been cut off from friends and family for twelve years. Sexual union would defile her husband so she couldn’t marry and, if she’d been married, her husband would have divorced her. Because her defilement would spread to anything she touched (be it food, cups or cushions), she was isolated in her own home. While the anemia, pain, stress, and public humiliation she endured because of her disorder must have been awful, perhaps the agony of being a pariah and unable to physically connect with people was even worse. It was her responsibility to make sure she didn’t defile others by touching them so she shouldn’t have been anywhere near a crowd. She certainly shouldn’t have touched a man (or his clothing) and could have been severely punished for her previously action. No wonder she tried to sneak unnoticed through the crowd to touch Jesus’ robe.
In a recent Doonesbury comic (written by Garry Trudeau), a pastor is explaining to the congregation what constitutes sin in the eyes of their church. The elders now will condone conduct such as, “lewdness, vulgarity, profanity, adultery, and sexual assault,” and exemptions from Christian values include, “greed, bullying, conspiring, boasting, lying, cheating, sloth, envy, wrath, gluttony and pride.” In addition, the church will overlook such things as, ”Biblical illiteracy, church non-attendance, and no credible sign of faith.” After the service, one church member says, “Lovin’ the lower bar, Pastor!” while another adds, “I feel like a freakin’ saint now!” Trudeau’s comic may be satire but it is closer to the truth than I care to admit.
Upon retirement, many people consider their productive years over. Having been a CEO in a major corporation, a friend’s father felt worthless without his corporate identity. Prior to retirement, he could call any number of powerful people and get a meeting simply because of his position but, without his title, he felt like a nonentity. His previous business triumphs couldn’t sustain him and he saw no victories in the future. Unfortunately, many seniors who found their identity in their career, corporate title or paycheck are at loose ends when retirement comes along. Some of my friends who were homemakers aren’t much different from those in the business world. It’s just that they found their identity in motherhood and their self-esteem in their children’s achievements. Now, with an empty nest and adult children living their own lives far away, they feel unnecessary. Like my friend’s father, they are looking back at who and what they’ve been rather than forward to who and what they can be.
