When Emily and I were living in our first place here in Seattle, she came home from the Rainbow Hop on Phinney Ridge one year with a sunflower seed planted in a tiny little cup. She put it out on our deck, not really expecting much, until, eventually, we had a 7-foot sunflower that had been replanted several times and needed to be tied to the railing to keep it from tipping over. While that was Emily’s project, I really wanted to grow strawberries, except I forgot that they were perennial, until one day I noticed one of the plants trying to grow into our living room; I didn’t even realize that it was still alive after being frozen and practically drowned all winter and spring. Yet, somehow, that little plant persisted. Despite my lack of care, the strawberry plant continued to grow, and our towering sunflower would go on to become food for the birds long after the flower had died and we should have composted it.
Now, normally when I plant things, especially in an actual garden setting, I am significantly more methodical. I remember our gardens growing up when we would dig our little trenches in the garden beds and space out the seeds, doing all that we could to ensure that they would thrive. It was my summer chore to water all the plants, which I particularly hated after we got a rain barrel, and I had to tiptoe around the corner to see if the angry neighborhood turkey was roosting under the spigot again. Yet, I loved to see all the seeds growing. In recent years, however, I have come to learn that other people are a bit more like the sower scattering seeds in today’s Gospel story. My best friend, for example, planted what she lovingly called her “chaos garden” this year. Where she used a tiller to dig up part of her yard, threw in some seeds, not quite remembering what she planted where, and just waited to see what grew. We love to joke about how much this method stresses me out! At the most recent update this weekend, some of it is doing quite well, other parts are competing with the surrounding plants, and other sprouts provided great food for the rabbits in her yard. Regardless of results, at least her chaos garden makes a great sermon illustration for me, and it makes her happy!
While I understand the way that this parable is supposed to be teaching us about faithfulness, there are definitely still some things that I think our understanding of this parable ignores if we just focus on being “good soil,” as is often the emphasis in sermons on these texts. We hear about how we need to be more faithful and more open to God’s word, but what does this even look like for us? For example, in the agricultural world at least, “good soil” cannot be good all the time without taking some time to rest or having additional nutrients added. A variety of practices help to keep the soil at its best; we have learned this the hard way in our agricultural practices, now coming to understand the importance of fallow seasons and crop rotation for the well-being of the soil and its capacity to function at its peak. If we just keep planting the same thing over and over, the nutrients in the soil become unbalanced, as different plants need varying quantities of the different nutrients to thrive.
Just as doubt is an important part of faith, so too is it helpful for us to recognize the ways in which we further allow for our growth by exposing ourselves to different theological perspectives, other’s faith stories, and a variety of spiritual practices. Stirring up the soil of our faith doesn’t mean that our other practices are bad or wrong, but it may help us find additional ways to connect with our individual faith and our communities Plus, if you’re like me, it can provide the needed novelty so that we aren’t just going through the motions day in and day out. Our faith is allowed to grow and take on new life instead of being confined in the “planter” of “how we have always done it.” It’s like when we repot a plant, giving it more space to grow, even if it was still living just fine in its smaller pot. We don’t always see the potential for growth until we make some changes.
This brings me to my other point about faithfulness that is easy to overlook in the explanation of this parable. We hear Jesus talk about what the birds coming to eat the seeds means, that the Word doesn’t have the ability to even take root, but we often take this parable at a very individualistic level. Instead, what does it mean for us to see the way in which the seed provides nourishment for the birds too, just as my friend’s plants provided food for the rabbits? We focus so much on the seeds that are lost that we don’t see the larger connected ecosystem in which God created us.
The reality is that we live in this world with birds, rabbits, and other humans! Just as our plants don’t always thrive on their own (although they occasionally do), we are all able to flourish more greatly when we recognize the ways that we are entrusted to the earth and one another. The nurturing of our faith isn’t just an individual activity because our lives are not completely separate from everything and everyone around us. I have always loved the way this interconnectedness is exemplified in today’s Isaiah reading, as we invited to imagine what it means for the mountains and hills to burst into song or the trees to clap their hands (Isaiah 55: 12). This is the depicted response when the Israelites renew their covenant with God and prepare to return from exile in Babylon; but the possibilities are limitless for how creation still helps us to understand faithfulness and recall our connected nature.
So, instead of solely focusing on the individual, today’s story can be viewed as both a societal and individual perspective on the ways we are receptive (or not) to God’s word and teachings. What are the ways that we are preparing our hearts and minds to hear what God has to say, and then listen to that even when it is challenging for us, and how are we creating space within our worship and fellowship to see the ways that God is moving in and among us and the wider creation? How is God calling us individually and communally to walk with one another, support each other in life and faith, care for our neighbors, and share the love of God through word and deed?
Unlike the gardens of my youth, in faith, we often don’t know what we are planting until it starts to grow. Sometimes we can randomly plant seeds and they will grow, while other times, they take a lot of tending. And, more often than not, we don’t know the impact we have on other peoples’ lives. Looking at our Little Free Pantry as an example, when we put the food out each day, we don’t have any control over who gets what or where it goes. Sometimes we may want more control than we have, but this is just one of the ways in which we are planting seeds in our community. We don’t know how people are going to be impacted, but it at least helps people see that they are loved and that people care about them enough to share food with them, something Jesus did many times throughout the Gospels. Faith becomes a bit more like my friend’s chaos garden, and that can be stressful for those of us who prefer everything in neat, organized, and labeled rows.
When we come in to find food or garbage thrown around the yard, it may feel like we are the sower watching as seeds get picked up by the birds or aren’t able to grow because of the weeds. That’s just something that we learn from planting too, though; not every seed is going to grow in the way that we want or expect. But we’ll never know what will happen with the seeds if we just keep them sealed up in the package. The purpose of our ministry isn’t to make everyone become an ELCA Lutheran, but it is to actively share God’s love in community. So, we are called to show up and help scatter those seeds of love, not knowing how they are going to take root in our community or how that is going to continue on for days or generations to come. We may have doubts or discouragement from time to time, but may we be like so many gardeners before us and keep scattering the seeds and seeing what takes root. After all, I don’t think we are going to regret putting a bit more love out into the world to see how it can bloom and grow when we release it from our grasp.
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Sunday July 5th, 2026 Worship