July 31 sermon

Text: Isaiah 55:1-5
Preached July 31 and August 3 at First


Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Some of my family is here today. Every year at this time, my parents come up from Iowa to my grandmother’s in Spring Valley, and we go to the Olmsted County Fair in Rochester. This year was no exception, and that’s where we spent yesterday afternoon.

It brought back memories of a couple years ago, when things didn’t go quite as smoothly as they did yesterday. While I was in Spring Valley that year, my car broke down on me. I got to the edge of town, on my way to Rochester, and pulled off the road just in time for my car to quit completely. Apparently I needed a new fuel pump—so much for my “reliable” little car that never let me down.

I was doing my clinical pastoral education that summer, working as a hospital chaplain, with very little flexibility for time off. And now I was stuck in Spring Valley. My parents and my grandma bent over backwards to help to me deal with the unexpected repair.

My grandma voluntarily stranded herself at home for a couple days by loaning me her car. My dad made two trips between Spring Valley and St. Paul to get me to work and to get my car back to me. That’s eight hours of driving and a longer stay in Minnesota. My mom was at a conference elsewhere, but she offered moral support from afar.

And, even though I was a legitimate grown-up and financially independent, they paid for the repair for me. It was all very helpful and generous, and I felt really cared for and grateful.

But I was also a little conflicted, because I don’t like being dependent. I don’t like not being able to handle everything on my own. I don’t want to be vulnerable. I want to be in control of my own life. It was humbling to receive such kindness, even from my family.

I think most of us like to take care of ourselves, and I bet we sometimes manage to convince ourselves that we can do a pretty decent job of it. When things are going well, we might even start to think God must be impressed with us. Surely God favors those who have it all together, right? Doesn’t God help those who help themselves?

The ancient Israelites thought they had everything together. They thought they were in good with God and didn’t need to worry too much about him. God certainly noticed their wandering attention. He asks through the prophet Isaiah, “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?”

The people had turned their backs on God and put their trust in idols, which can never sustain or satisfy us. And, lest we think ourselves vastly superior to those idolatrous Israelites, we might ask ourselves how much trust we put in money or stability or reputation.

Even our sense of independence can get in the way of right relationship with God. It can curve us in upon ourselves, turning our self-sufficiency into to self-centeredness. It can make us competitive, so that we assume someone else must lose if we’re going to win. It can make us merciless, so that we look upon those who suffer with condemnation instead of compassion.

No matter how convinced we are that we have it all together, every now and then, something happens that reminds us just how vulnerable we are. It could be something like my car repair—relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.

It could be an illness that makes us dependent on others for help. When I got appendicitis, two of my friends drove me to the emergency room and sat with me for six hours until my surgery, while other friends and family took care of me in many other ways as I recovered. I know some of you have much more dramatic experiences of support and care during times of illness.

It could be financial. We all like to be self-sufficient, but just one medical problem or job loss can send even a stable, middle-class family into financial crisis.

Maybe it’s education. You decide you need to update your skills, so you enroll in some training only to discover you’re in way over your head and you’ll never catch up without some serious, personalized help.

If we’re honest, we realize that we aren’t as self-sufficient as we like to think. The people of Israel came to the same cold, hard realization when their promised land was conquered and they were dragged off to Babylon as captives. They found themselves with no land, no freedom, and no future.

What does God have to say to his people in circumstances like these? What does God say to us as we sit in exile, face-to-face with the reality of our own weakness? What does God say when we discover that we cannot keep it together enough to earn God’s favor?

God says this: “Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”

God does not demand that we clean up our act. God does not tell us to go away, pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, and come back when we’re no longer helpless and hopeless. Instead, God issues an invitation.

No one can keep it together all the time. No one can pay for God’s grace. No one can earn God’s favor. Lucky for us, God gives it freely. This invitation is not just for people of good social standing, or people who can pay, or people who have no weaknesses.

The invitation to this banquet of God’s presence is for anyone and everyone who hungers and thirsts. We tend to put all sorts of conditions on God’s grace, but God offers this invitation on his own terms. And, like my dear family who helped me with my car, God’s terms are generous and easy. Don’t even think about trying to pay, God says, just come and eat freely.

This invitation God offers is to a life of abundance. “Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” Wine is often understood in the scriptures as a sign of God’s blessing. And milk is closely associated with the promised holy land, the land “flowing with milk and honey.”

God says a little later, “Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live.” This banquet is not just about the bare necessities of existence. It is about the sheer delight of life in God. We listen carefully so that we may live in the joy of God’s presence.

So, if abundant life is associated with inclining our ear and listening to God, there must be a word spoken to nourish us. You are what you eat, as they say, and God feeds us with the finest of foods. By God’s word we are transformed into his people.

We heard already the word of God’s forgiveness, restoring us to right relationship with him. We will soon hold that forgiveness in our hands—the bodily presence of our Savior in the bread and wine. In scripture, in proclamation, and in the holy meal, we receive over and over again the great promise that, in Jesus Christ, we are made new, and nothing in all creation can separate us from God’s love.

When we are reminded in the most painful ways that we cannot manage everything on our own, God’s love and forgiveness and compassion are for us. When our lives are out of control and crumbling around us, our Christ is present with us in the midst of the pain. When we are faced with the harsh reality of our own vulnerability, God invites us once again to the banquet of his grace.

This abundant life is possible because of God’s faithfulness: “I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.” Through Isaiah, God reminds the people of his faithfulness, which they may have been questioning. God had promised to establish David’s family as rulers of God’s people forever, and now the people have been conquered. What, then, had become of God’s promise?

God tells them what had become of it—it is being expanded to include all of God’s people. “I will make with you an everlasting covenant.” Suddenly, the people are reminded that this steadfast, sure love of God is not just for David, but is for all of Israel.

And the God who made this covenant is the same God who later fed a multitude with only two fish and five loaves of bread, because he had compassion on them. This God is the same God who continues to provide for us even now, inviting us to his table where he gives us nothing less than himself! This is the God who offers us a life of abundance and delight in his presence.

Along with this invitation comes a call to witness. The abundant life God offers is not just for our sake, but for the sake of everyone around us. God says, “See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you.”

When God called Abraham and promised to “make of [him] a great nation,” it was so that in Abraham “all the families of the earth” would be blessed. When God called David to rule God’s people, God made him “a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples.” The peoples here extend far beyond Israel.

And now, as God invites us to the banquet of his grace, he calls us to show forth the delight of his abundant life so that all people may be drawn to his love and may partake of the banquet, freely given.

I can’t repay my family for helping me with my car. I can’t repay my friends for supporting me through appendicitis. You probably can’t repay the folks who have supported and upheld you through the trials of your life. But we can all pass along that kindness by extending the same care to others.

Just so, we cannot pay for God’s grace, nor can we earn his favor. But we can show compassion for those who are all too aware of their weakness. We can remind them that we are all vulnerable and dependent, and God loves us anyway. And we can invite them to the banquet of abundant grace that God sets forth for us, so that all may share in the delight of life in God. Amen.

Weekly beauty: "All People That on Earth Do Dwell"

One of my favorite hymns of late. We sang it at Holden and Dale when I was there in mid-June, and I was enchanted by the stunning poetry.

I'm all about communicating the gospel in ways that people can understand. I'm also a lover of language, and this is beautiful language, even if it isn't as easily accessible as more contemporary formulations.

Another thing I love about this hymn is its sense of the holiness and transcendence of God. It's a paraphrase of Psalm 100 (hence the name of the tune, Old Hundredth), and it's no surprise for the psalmist to speak this way. But it's a bold claim to say "without our aid he did us make," in a culture like ours, where we like to think we can handle everything just fine on our own, thankyouverymuch.

Here's a video from the BBC; the music starts 22 seconds into it. It's a magnificent arrangement by Ralph Vaughan Williams, originally for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953.





I'm transcribing the verses below so you can enjoy the words even without watching the video. The Old Hundredth tune is very familiar (same as the doxology, "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow"), so perhaps you could even sing if you're so inclined.


All People That on Earth Do Dwell (ELW 883 or LBW 245)

All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with mirth, his praise forth tell;
Come ye before him and rejoice.

Know that the Lord is God indeed;
Without our aid he did us make.
We are his folk, he doth us feed,
And for his sheep he doth us take.

Oh, enter then his gates with praise;
Approach with joy his courts unto;
Praise, laud, and bless his name always,
For it is seemly so to do.

For why? The Lord our God is good:
His mercy is forever sure;
His truth at all times firmly stood,
And shall from age to age endure.

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
The God whom heav'n and earth adore,
From us and from the angel host
Be praise and glory evermore.

Beautiful bank

Check it out: the Wells Fargo Bank in Owatonna.








Originally the National Farmers' Bank, it was designed in 1908 by architect Louis Sullivan. He designed several other Midwestern banks (photos and locations here) but the one in Owatonna is the most grand.








There's a brochure with more information here (it opens as a PDF). What a fun surprise to encounter such beauty on a routine errand!

Community worship

One of the fun possibilities of summer is outdoor worship. We gathered in West Concord this weekend for the annual community celebration, called Survival Days, and it included a worship service on Sunday morning.

The band that helped lead worship was called Rise to LIFE, with LIFE standing for "Living in Faith Every day." They were a talented group of young men from the Kasson-Mantorville school district nearby.





Five churches joined together for ecumenical worship: Concord Church of Christ, Faith Community Church, West Concord United Methodist Church, Trinity, and Hegre. I was scheduled to lead worship at Hegre, so I got in on this event by default.

Unfortunately, it was my last Sunday at Hegre, so I missed out on saying a proper farewell. (The goodbye process is quite prolonged with eight churches.) One of the tricky things about juggling all these congregations is that sometimes details like this get overlooked until it's too late. Fortunately, there were some Hegre folks at community worship and it was a pleasure to see them again.





The festivities continued with food booths and entertainment. I did have coffee with some folks at the legion hall, where a breakfast was being served, then the real festivities started back up again at 1 p.m. with a parade, ice cream social, and other events.





We were lucky to have a beautiful day. I was actually a bit cool for the first time in over a week. It was a terrific change of pace from the stifling heat of late.

Random updates

First things first...thanks be to God for relief from the sweltering heat. I hope I don't see this again anytime soon:





In other car-related news, mine recently flipped over to 100,000 miles. It happened as I was returning from my visit to dear little Annika. Note the speedometer; I pulled over to take the pic. Had to circle a parking lot a couple times for the last tenth of a mile or so, but I wasn't cruising along at 75 whilst simultaneously wielding a camera.





In the true spirit of randomness, check out these cute cows from the Iowa Welcome Center at Lamoni, where we stopped on our way back from visiting sweet little Dayla (and her parents, of course) in Kansas City.





Meanwhile, Sami survived the trip to and from my parents' house during my vacation, but she wasn't happy about it. She spent much of her time in Iowa hiding under my bed. At least she doesn't look particularly tense.





And here she is checking out some daisies I had in the apartment. Nice little snack for her until I deprived her by making them inaccessible. She has a rough life.

Weekly beauty: Green fields

Okay, so cornfields aren't exactly a unique sight in the upper Midwest. But I am reveling in the beauty of the lush, wide open fields of green. Apparently I'm savoring my last few weeks of rural life before I move back St. Paul, which has its own charms, of course, but they are quite different.





I have had such a good time this spring and summer watching the crops mature. The rows of tiny little leaves were so cute, and then before I knew it the corn was over my head. And now it's tasseling, and the addition of that shoot of gold gives the fields a totally different look from the solid sea of earlier summer green.





Just look at those perfect rows. My sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Sackett, used to ask us to make our rows of desks "corn-row straight." Order and abundance. It's beautiful.

Pastors retreating

I've posted about the retreats I've attended with the Society of the Holy Trinity, which include education but are primarily focused on worship and daily prayer. And I wrote about the solitary retreat I took at the ARC Retreat Center last summer.

So, naturally, a short article entitled "Pastor Retreating" caught my eye. It was written by Jenny Warner on Patheos and can be found here. Here's an excerpt describing some aspects of a typical retreat experience:

Walking around, there are multiple signs that invite quiet. The staff expects that you will rest and not produce anything. The Protestant work ethic is nowhere to be seen in a retreat setting where nothing but the slow pace of soul work needs to be done and where taking a nap in the middle of the day is always a good place to start. This change of pace forges new paths for the Spirit in our hearts.

She is talking more about solitary retreats than group retreats, and her observations align with my own. It's a singular experience to take a solitary retreat, and very valuable. But the conundrum of clearing the calendar is the same for solitary or group retreats. In fact, it's also the same for daily prayer time.

I have found it necessary to remind myself constantly that Sabbath time is healthy and appropriate. I seem to need a reminder that my work is not going to save the world. God has taken care of that, and taking some time each day and some days every once in a while to remember that helps set up a whole different paradigm of time.

It's a sharp contrast to the American hyper-focus on constant productivity and accomplishment, and it's really important for perspective. And I don't think I'm alone in needing the reminder.

Conquering the mighty Zumbro

The area churches have been collaborating on youth activities this summer. Last month we gathered for fun and games at a park, and this month we went canoeing. The trip down the Zumbro River started at Zumbro Falls and ended at Hammond.








For the sake of accuracy, I should say others went canoeing. I went along, took pictures, served as chauffeur between the start and end points of the trip, and otherwise relaxed in the shade on dry land. It was a lovely day of temps in the mid-70s, rather than the sticky upper-90s misery we're enduring this week, so it was very pleasant.








Thanks to a generous Boy Scout leader from one of our congregations, we had six free canoes and a great guide. We also had a wonderful turnout, with 30 people participating, and they all seemed to have a blast! Next month: movie night.

July 17 sermon

Text: Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
Preached July 17 at Grace


Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

We’re talking a lot about seeds and planting lately, it seems. I have no doubt you all know a thing or two about such matters, with all the farmers and gardeners in our midst. But somehow I think even your collective agricultural knowledge might not be enough to fully crack the mysteries Jesus addresses for us today. Wheat and weeds are tricky enough, but the problem of good and evil is most certainly beyond our grasp.

“The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field,” Jesus says, and he continues later, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom.” God, through Christ, the Son of Man, made all of creation, and he made it good. But things went awry.

“[W]hile everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well….the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil….”

Martin Luther understood evil as including the devil, the world, and our sinful selves. These things combined to tarnish the initial goodness of God’s creation, and they continue their attempts to thwart God’s purposes.

Where do you see weeds, after all? Throughout the world, to be sure. Watching or reading the news will turn up plenty of examples. But we all have plenty of weeds growing in our own yards as well. There are some sins that keep cropping up no matter how many times we think we’ve uprooted them, and there are always new sins appearing in the mix as well.

With all its causes and in all its various forms, the fact is that evil is a reality in our world, and Jesus isn’t afraid to acknowledge it. Our world is fallen and broken, no longer in full relationship with God.

And, according to Jesus’ parable, the good and evil in the world are now so intertwined that they cannot be separated. The owner of this field tells his workers not to pull the weeds sown by an enemy among the good seed, “for in gathering the weeds,” he says, “you would uproot the wheat along with them.” Good and evil must grow together until the end of the age, Jesus tells us.

It’s uncomfortable to live with this reality, isn’t it? Nevertheless, that seems to be exactly what Jesus expects. I think Isaiah has something to say about it in our first reading as well.

“Thus says the Lord, the King of Israel, and his Redeemer, the Lord of hosts: I am the first and I am the last; besides me there is no god.” So God is God and we are not. If we believe this, and if we intend to let God be God, then the question of whether or not to uproot the weeds among the wheat remains squarely in God’s hands.

How tempting it is for us take matters into our own hands and try to root out the weeds we see. Some weeds are quite obvious and quite damaging and perhaps we could pull those successfully. But other weeds are much more subtle, and it isn’t always easy for us to tell the difference between these kinds of weeds and the good plants around them.

Lucky for us, God has sharper vision than we do, as well as a much better view of the entire field. He knows, as Jesus tells us, that sometimes digging up the weeds would be more disruptive and harmful to the crop than just letting them grow until they can be separated at harvest time.

God speaks further through Isaiah: “who has announced from of old the things to come?...have I not told you from of old and declared it?” God alone is in control of history, and he is constantly revealing and declaring himself. First he does it through the covenant, then through the prophets, and finally through his Son.

And, God says, “you are my witnesses!” God has been and still is and always will be at work in and around us. Jesus tells us that the field is not given over entirely to weeds—there is still good wheat bearing fruit even among the weeds.

There is still good happening in the world—there is still love and forgiveness and compassion. There is still mercy and kindness and courage. There is still patience and generosity and gentleness. We have only to notice it, to revel in it and participate in it, to proclaim it as God’s work.

And so, God says, “Do not fear, or be afraid.” It is not for us to worry about identifying and rooting out all the weeds in the world—everything that seems to be evil. Our part is to trust in God’s sovereignty, realizing that God’s ways are not our ways, as he told us through Isaiah just a couple weeks ago.

Our part is to remember that God has proven his goodness and love in sending his Son to die for us. “There is no other rock,” God says, “I know not one.” God is God and we are not. And this God is a refuge of stability and security and safety, even amidst the storms and sorrow and suffering of life in a world plagued by evil.

And so, trusting in this loving God, we wait with patience and hope, even as we long for God’s promised future. Paul says in our second reading that “the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God.” He describes this waiting as “groaning in labor pains” in “bondage to decay.”

All of creation experiences the suffering of sin and brokenness, and we yearn to separate the wheat and the weeds, to rest securely in the kingdom of Christ where no evil can touch us and no harm come to us.

One scholar points out that part of what causes our suffering is that “the Spirit has given us reason to hope for more than we can see….For now, the suffering Paul speaks of…comes from knowing what the world could be, even as we live in the world as it is” (Mary Hinkle Shore on WorkingPreacher).

So the very cause of our hope is also a cause of our suffering! We can see beyond the world into God’s promised future, and so we wait eagerly for its arrival. The eager longing Paul describes is the anticipation of someone straining to see the dawn breaking after a long, restless night. It is the yearning of someone scanning the horizon for the arrival of an expected loved one. It is active longing, always on the lookout.

And the reality of the future God has promised us is precisely why Paul can say, “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.” Suffering is real, and we should never ignore or dismiss anyone’s experience of it. But, even as we suffer, we do not lose hope.

Instead, we endure in the certain hope “that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” Or, as Matthew says, “the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” In hope we were saved, Paul says, and we wait with eager anticipation for that which we do not see but which has been made sure and certain for us by God’s promise.

The suffering of this life does not have the final word. The evil one who sows weeds among the wheat does not have the final word. Even death itself does not have the final word. God is God, and we are not, nor is anything else in creation. And God will have the final word.

Matthew tells us that God will root out all evil and sin and brokenness at the end of the age. Both the evil around us and the evil within us will be burned away to leave only good grain. Paul tells us we can expect the redemption of our bodies along with the restoration of all creation—a new life fully reflecting the glory of God. John tells us in Revelation that God will wipe every tear from our eyes and death will be no more.

So we trust in this promise, knowing we have “the first fruits of the Spirit.” The first fruits are representative of the full harvest, a pledge of what is to come. We know that God has great things in store for us, because the pledge he has given us is his very Son!

And the Spirit bears witness that we, too, are children of God, and “if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” We are heirs with Christ in both suffering and glory, death and resurrection, decay and brand-new life. So we wait with patience, trusting God’s promise that he is present in suffering, tending to both weeds and wheat. And we live in the sure and certain hope that, in Christ, God is making all things new. Amen.

Weekly beauty: Sandra Bowden

I can't remember how I stumbled upon Sandra Bowden's art but I know I like it.

Her gallery is organized into categories: text series, archaeology series, collage series, crucifixion series, art history, artist's books, and geological forms.

Samples from the text series demonstrate Bowden's trademark: the inclusion of Hebrew text in the piece. It's compact and not necessarily intended to be read, but becomes part of the art.


Heavens Declare (Psalm 19)




Aaron's Breastplate (a reference to Exodus 28:29, the inscription of the names of the 12 tribes of Israel on Aaron's priestly vestments; the piece also includes Jacob's blessing of his 12 sons, from Genesis 49)




Law and Gospel (a depiction of the two tablets of the Ten Commandments, with an additional horizontal cut to form a cross)




From the crucifixion series, a piece called He Was Wounded for our Transgressions (a San Damiano cross surrounded by words from Isaiah 43)




And from the geological forms series, this is Burst into Song, O Mountains (from Isaiah 49)




There's something quite compelling about such simple forms carrying so many layers of meaning.

Out and about

I mentioned my trip to Kansas City, and shared some pictures of our family gathering. Here's a bit of our exploits around town.


The sports complex, Arrowhead Stadium (home of the Chiefs football team) and Kauffman Stadium (home of the Royals baseball team).




The Liberty Memorial and National World War I Museum. We drove by without stopping. I hope to visit sometime.




And the beautiful architecture of Union Station.







I also attended another retreat of the Society of the Holy Trinity. It's always a delight to pray together. As a bonus, this was the first time I had been to the Christ the King Retreat House in Buffalo, Minnesota, when it wasn't snowy and frozen.


Beautiful grounds.




Statue of Moses.




Baby barn swallows. See Psalm 84:3.




Stunning sunset.

Women's retreat day

Last weekend I had the privilege of participating in a day of retreat for the WELCA ladies of Trinity. It was a beautiful opportunity for strong women of faith to gather together to pray and study and support one another.


Our gracious hostess had all kinds of goodies available for us, including bubble wands, treats, and customized journals in which she had inserted inspirational resources.




We had lots of time for various types of study and prayer, both individually (like lectio divina) and communally (like the morning prayer liturgy).




We enjoyed lovely refreshments at a beautiful table (and we even tried our hand at napkin origami, just for fun).




And, just for more fun, we played lawn games and blew bubbles while our lunch was being prepared for us. It was delightful.




The conversation and encouragement that emerged from our study and prayer was heartening to all of us, I think. And we obviously had a lot of fun in the process as well.

July 10 sermon

Text: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
Preached July 10 at Trinity


Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

So what do plants need to flourish? Those of us who gathered on Wednesday evening considered this question, and our young people just helped us think through it again. The first thing they need, of course, is someone to plant them. “A sower went out to sow,” Jesus tells us. If God’s people are to grow and bear fruit, God’s word must be planted in the first place. We need a preacher!

Now, by “preacher,” I don’t just mean those of us who get to study and proclaim God’s word during the designated “sermon” time on Sunday morning. That is important, of course (at least, I think it is!). And so are all the other ways in which we share the good news. Jesus wasn’t talking only to pastors when he said at the end of Matthew’s gospel, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

All of us—all of you—who know the story of God’s love made known in Christ are preachers. God has given you his promises—a promise that he has named and claimed you as his own, a promise that nothing in all creation can separate you from his love in Christ Jesus, a promise that he will one day raise his people to eternal life and make all things new. These promises are for you, and they are for everyone around you. That means it’s your job to get the word out there—to be a preacher of the good news!

As we talked about with the kids, this sower doesn’t exactly seem shrewd and skillful about his farming practices, does he? I know those of you who cultivate crops probably have GPS-guided equipment that tells you exactly where the seeds go, and a whole arsenal of other scientific and mechanical tricks to make your efforts as productive as possible.

But this sower doesn’t seem to care where his seeds end up. Thankfully, some of the seed does fall on good soil, where it can grow and produce grain. But some lands on the path, which would have been worn down by foot traffic so that plant roots couldn’t penetrate the crusty surface before it was snatched by birds. Some lands on the rocks, which prevent the roots from getting down into the soil. Some lands among thorns, which steal all the sun and water and nutrients and starve the good plants.

The sower doesn’t seem to have much concern for maximizing his yield through careful planting. Instead, there seems to be an abundance of seed and little worry for precision. This is how God works with his word—he scatters it all over the place, through all these preachers he’s commissioned. And so we go—you go—and spread that word far and wide, regardless of where it might end up.

It is true, of course, that conditions must be right for the plants to grow. The seed must get its roots into the soil. Jesus says, “When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path.”

There are plenty of folks in Matthew’s gospel who hear but do not understand. How about the religious leaders who hear Jesus’ message but oppose him every step of the way? How about the crowds who seem to love the healings and miracles but eventually turn on Jesus and put him to death?

How about our own pride and prejudices? How often do we think we can do better on our own than with God’s guidance? How much does our culture emphasize individuality and following our own desires, not letting anyone tell us what to believe? The word cannot sink in when hearts and minds are not open to receive it.

Once it does penetrate that top layer of soil, the seed must be rooted deeply. Jesus continues: “As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away.”

If you’re anything like me, you can easily get excited about a new undertaking, but the enthusiasm isn’t always sustainable. It could be college majors, careers, or hobbies. You get fired up about something so you spend money on photography equipment or musical instruments or sewing supplies or sports gear. But, as soon as you realize you’re going to have to work hard to be any good at this new endeavor, your enthusiasm vanishes and your shiny new things sit unused.

This is not the nature of discipleship, is it? Discipleship is long-term. It has to weather all the good, bad, and unremarkable times. Christians do not live on enthusiasm alone, but discipleship happens amidst the mundane routines of daily life.

The occasional mountaintop experience of closeness with God can be rejuvenating, and it is a blessing when it happens, but it cannot be the central substance of our faith lives. Faith is nourished in the community of Christ’s body, the church, and sustained by God’s word, and the sacraments, and spiritual disciplines like prayer.

Persecution and suffering is a reality. The disciples and the early church faced plenty of reasons for despair—both physical harm and rejection of the message in which they believed. We too are vulnerable to the suffering of life and the rejection of our efforts to reach out with the good news of God’s love. We must have roots deep enough to handle these challenges if we are to continue to grow in Christ.

When the seeds are planted and they’ve managed to establish healthy roots, they aren’t home free yet. What if their territory gets crowded? “As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing.”

Even a novice gardener knows that it’s important to keep weeds out of the garden, so they don’t steal all the nutrients from the plants you want to grow. The word must have adequate space and nourishment.

Matthew tells us of a rich young man who asked Jesus what he must do to have eternal life. Jesus told him he should keep the commandments, and he also said, “sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and…follow me.” And the man went away grieving. It seems he just couldn’t give up his possessions.

Many of us live fast-paced lives, juggling competing demands and priorities. And many of these demands—like family, work, and service—are not at all bad or frivolous. But they can still be distracting. Sometimes when I’m taking classes in seminary, I get so caught up in what’s due next that I forget why I’m doing it in the first place.

Obvious distractions like greed are dangerous, but these other, very important, very good things can also cause problems for our discipleship. As Jesus told Martha, only one thing is needed.

Taking time for prayer, praise, study, and fellowship sets up a different paradigm for our time, reminding us that we are not the savior of the world and that all does not depend on us. Discipleship means being set apart from the world and its concerns, so that they do not choke us, even as we are planted firmly in the midst of them.

It’s clear, then, that plants have to have the right conditions in order to grow. And it’s clear that God’s word must be received under the right conditions in order to thrive. But there’s an important thing to note about bad soil—it cannot change itself. A crusty pathway can’t soften itself. A rocky patch can’t throw out the rocks. A plot full of weeds can’t remove them.

Just so, we cannot transform ourselves into good soil for God’s word. The sower sows the seed, but God works the soil. The disciples are a good example. They often don’t seem to understand what Jesus is up to, and eventually they betray and deny him as he dies. But Jesus doesn’t give up on them. He continues to teach, encourage, and love them, and he entrusts his mission to them as he ascends into heaven.

God does not give up on us either. He continually transforms us into receptive soil that bears good fruit. Through Christ, God makes us good soil, and God’s Spirit continually works on the spots in our lives that are still hardened, rocky, or thorny.

It’s also important to remember that we can’t change anyone else’s soil type any more than we can change our own. As we sow the seed of God’s promises, we may not always find a warm reception. But even in the face of indifference or hostility, we can’t tell when or where God is at work, transforming the hardened, rocky, or thorny parts of other people’s lives just as he does ours, making them into receptive soil that can hear and understand God’s message of love and grace.

So we sow God’s word extravagantly, no matter what condition the soil seems to be in, and we trust that God will give the growth. You farmers and gardeners surely don’t expect every single seed you plant to germinate. Some of them might wash away or get pounded by hail or wither up mysteriously. But you plant them anyway, trusting that there will be a harvest.

Isaiah’s metaphor of snow and rain in our first reading points to the transformational effect of God’s word in the lives of its hearers:

“For as the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

The moisture of snow and rain, in combination with good soil and sunshine, ensure food for the season. God’s word does what its hearers need it to do, bringing God’s promises even into treacherous territory.

This assurance gives us freedom to take risks for the gospel, recklessly scattering that good news all over the place with no requirements about the worthiness of the recipient. That’s how God works, after all—we are all unworthy recipients of grace, mercy, and forgiveness, but God gives it freely.

Faithful sowing means giving freely that which we have been freely given—trusting that God will give the growth so that the word “bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundred-fold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.” Because, whether or not we can see it, God has promised that his word will not return empty, and the harvest is assured. And God keeps his promises. Amen.

Weekly beauty: Missouri mural

On our way to Kansas City last weekend, my parents and I stopped at a rest stop / welcome center near Eagleville, Missouri, where we found this lovely work of art.





The woman working in the welcome center saw me taking pictures and kindly brought me a brochure explaining the piece's history and images. It's a glass tile mosaic and was created by Carl and Sandra Bryant, owners of Showcase Mosaics of Lynden, Washington.

Images below include outlaw Jesse James (born and later killed in Missouri), tenor saxophonist Coleman Hawkins (a nod to the great KC jazz tradition), explorers Lewis and Clark, the Liberty Memorial and National World War I Museum (in Kansas City), and a baseball player representing the Negro National League, organized in Kansas City in 1920.





Depicted in this half are Missouri wildflowers and wildlife, artist Thomas Hart Benton (born in Neosho, MO), President Harry S. Truman (born in Independence, MO), and the barn from Walt Disney's youth (in Marceline, MO).





Finally, the center portion features pioneers using the many major wagon trails that passed through Missouri.





As a lover of both beauty and history, I thought this mural was captivating. And what an unexpected place to find such a work!

Baptism weekend

I know it was the Fourth of July, and a lovely holiday it was. But, for our family, my niece's baptism took center stage instead. I started out my vacation with a visit to sweet little Annika, made a stop in Iowa, then rounded out the trip with some time in Kansas City for Dayla's baptism.


She has grown so much since I saw her last, and looks even bigger to me after my time with Annika.




Big girls have to look after their animals and take care of their farmyards.




And now that she's eating some solid food, she wanted to skip straight to the lefse. The girl knows her stuff.




The baptism was joyous, as is always the case when Christ claims another child as his own. Dayla wore a dress that has been in my sister-in-law Sarah's family for almost 90 years, and has been worn by at least 36 people for their baptisms, so that was quite special.




And her other sponsor (besides me, that is), Sarah's brother, came prepared with baby goggles just in case full immersion was the order of the day. Turns out Dayla didn't need the goggles for the baptism itself, but how could we pass up a photo op like this afterward?




The family convivium after the worship service was beautiful as well, and Dayla had a grand time being passed from one loving person to the next.




She made a wardrobe change for her party, of course. It's only befitting such a princess. (And who wants to take chances with a 90-year-old family heirloom?)




It was a glorious weekend, and now Dayla Elizabeth is raised to new life, sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever!

The Amana Colonies

Last week during my vacation, my dad and I made a trip to a fun Iowa destination, the Amana Colonies. It's a group of seven villages founded by German Pietists in the mid-1800s. They lived a communal lifestyle until the 1930s; you can read more about the history here. The villages are now a tourist destination with all sorts of cute shops, wineries, and restaurants, still with a German flair.





As we wound our way through the beautiful Iowa countryside, we ran into some kind of little parade of old tractors.





And eventually reached our destination, which was charming, as always, despite a heat index of almost 110 degrees. I was in search of wine, so we hit the Ackerman Winery and the White Cross Cellars.





The Amana General Store is always one of my favorite destinations. It's one of those overstimulating, overcrowded, enchanting places where you can buy kitchen things, knick-knacks of any kind, specialty foods, furniture, and just about anything else you could ever want. Like many of the Amana stores, they have a Christmas room, which was kind-of nice on such a hot day.





And, of course, we had to make a stop to admire the lovely furniture at the Amana Furniture Store, much of it hand-crafted locally. Here's my favorite room: so many beautiful clocks, inculding a wall of cukoo clocks.





One of our usual stops that we skipped today was the Amana Woolen Mill. They have a huge variety of beautiful clothing and housewares, but it was just too hot to even think about blankets and sweaters.

We did, of course, visit both the Chocolate Haus and the ice cream store, and I got some wine, so the trip was both enjoyable and successful.