Sunday, February 24, 2013

The Farmer (Day 12 of Lent)


One day I was at work, and it was one of those days where I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and possibly the wrong side of the universe.  I couldn't seem to be at peace no matter what I tried.  During the lunch rush, I got really pissed at the head cook and threw a piece of cornbread at him.  Then, I mentioned a few a Spanish words that I thought may be insulting.  Needless to say, he was not happy and neither was I.  We didn't talk to each other the rest of the day, and I kept fuming, trying just to make it to 4:00.  

That night, I thought about what took place, and wrote it down.  I came to the conclusion that I got angry because things weren't going my way, and I wanted to be in charge and run everyone's life.  In response, the next morning I showed up to work a little early.  I wanted to apologize for my actions, but wanted to make sure he understood.  So, I typed up a note that said, "I was wrong for getting angry and throwing the cornbread at you.  Is there anything else I've done to harm you?  Is there anything I can do to make it right?"  After I finished the note, I copied and pasted onto Google Translate (which, by the way, is a great tool for those of you who work with people who don't speak English).  I translated the message, then took it to him.  I stood there as he read it, and he said, "You said some very bad things yesterday.  It was very bad buddy."  

"Is there anything I can do to fix it?"

He said, "Don't do it again."

A thought popped in my mind that I should go back to Google Translate to look up the words that I had insulted him with yesterday.  On the Spanish side of Translate I typed, "pinche bendejo."  When I saw what the English translation was, I panicked.  I had no idea that's what had come out of my mouth.  I went back to the head cook again and apologized for what I had said.  I made a mental note to never say that again.  

Language is very powerful, even when we don't know exactly what we're saying.  It's powerful for both the giver and the receiver of the words.  For me, I underestimated what I had said, thinking that my broken Spanish wouldn't have much effect.  It did.  

In today's passage for Lent, we find Jesus giving a parable about seeds.  He says there's this farmer who scatters some seeds, and they fall in four types of areas:  the road, the gravel, the weeds, and good earth.  The road seeds got eaten by birds.  The gravel seeds sprouted but had no root action.  The weed seeds were strangled out.  The earth seeds produced a harvest beyond the farmer's wildest dreams.  He doesn't mention the ant pile seeds, which is what's happening to one of mine right now.  I'm wondering if the seeds I have planted are going to make it.  Every morning I go out to water, and there's nothing except dirt.  I don't know when I'm going to have to draw the line and say, I need to start over.  

I believe the farmer in this passage represents God.  I believe the seeds represent the logos, or the word of God.  I believe the different surfaces represent us at different stages in life.  

There have been times where I have heard about God and his love for me, but I was like the road where the birds came and picked up the seeds.  They didn't stick.  I heard it, and it was gone just as quickly.  There have been times I have heard about God and his love for me, but I was like the gravel.  The logos sprouted into a bunch of head knowledge, but the roots never sunk into my heart.  Then, there have been times I have heard about God and his love for me, but I was like the weeds.  It wasn't long before someone came and told me that God loves me if . . . and the weeds of religion and dogma strangled the logos.  But then, there are times that the logos sets in, finds root, and grows into something beautiful.  When this happens, the birds and the weeds don't stand a chance against.  

What I try to do through this blog is to carry a message that I believe in with all my heart.  There's no way I can prove it though, and that gets frustrating sometimes.  The only way I have to come close to proving it is to speak and act in accordance to the logos inside my heart.  Belief is simple and profound at the same time.  Just like the word that I gave to my head cook, a few simple words turned into a big commitment to never say those words again.  

Since believing something means doing so without proof of its existence, many of us are fearful to do so.  We've had birds and weeds come at us in the past to take away what we held in our hearts, simple seeds of belief in God's love for us.  Just when we thought our seeds were starting the growing process, the message of God's love got distorted with rules, people's conceptions of a fiery hell with eternal torment, and old covenant theology.  We let the distractions uproot our seeds and fade away, holding an everlasting resentment toward religion and it's people.  Some of us threw the God concept away entirely on account of people who distorted his message.  Others of us have really struggled to reacquaint ourselves with a loving, compassionate, and inclusive God.  

I've been transformed by the logos of God.  Through trial and tribulation, birds and weeds, one simple seed finally made it to my fertile heart.  I believe that God is loving, and reading the scriptures helps to back up the belief.  I think this passage is more than a series of phases though.  

For those of us who have not experienced the fertile ground of the heart yet, this passage brings hope.  There are times when we think that we will never experience the joy, peace, contentment, and love of God.  But, I believe God is tilling all of our hearts to make them fertile and ready to produce a harvest.  My encouragement to everyone who is having a rough go with God is, please don't discount the farmer on account of the birds and the weeds or the lack of soil.  The farmer is constantly working tirelessly to create a good soil that will produce good crops.  

As we go out today, may we be okay with what the status of our fertility.  If we are like the road that the birds come and swipe away our seeds, may we believe that the Farmer is still working.  If we are like the gravel in which the seeds aren't finding root to our hearts, may we believe the Farmer is still tilling.  If we are like the weeds in which other messages keep drowning out the logos of God, may we believe the Farmer is still planting.  If we are like the fertile ground, may we believe that the Farmer is nurturing and pruning us, and that we have much to give away.  

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