The Parable of the Sower

I’ve always loved the Parable of the Sower (Mt. 13:1-9, 18-23).  I realized this week, though, that I’ve been loving it for the wrong reason.

Up until this week, I’ve been focused on the ground where the seed landed, which represents those who hear the word of God’s reign.  Some of the seed landed on the path.  The birds came along and ate it.  Some landed on rocky ground without much soil. The seedlings sprang up quickly, but when the sun came, they withered away “since they had no root.”  Other seeds fell among the thorns, which choked them.  Finally, some fell on good soil and brought forth abundant grain. 

As a product of the Bible belt, although one distinctly out of step with it, I’ve always found that comforting.  Of course, I was finding it comforting in a judgmental and somewhat self-righteous way since, of course, I saw myself and those more like me as the good soil and the evangelical fervor around me as shallow, rocky, and thorny.  Perhaps it was all those visits during college from Campus Crusade for Christ, who I learned had me on a list of back sliders.   (I think it must have been my defense of infant baptism.) 

The antidote to my defensively judgmental view, though, is not to concentrate on the soil or even on the seed.  It is to concentrate on the sower. 

What I now see in the Parable of the Sower is the way the sower casts the seed with abandon.  The sower holds nothing back and is content to let the seed fall where it may and yield what it may.  When I concentrate on the sower, I am more inclined to see reckless generosity with the seed and unbridled hope in the result.  Perhaps I ought to see scarcity and risk of waste.  Still, what strikes me is the complete confidence that the good soil will yield more than enough to carry along the soil that was not able, through no fault of its own by the way, to produce a harvest.

Peace,