Sermon - Pentecost 4 - Mark 4:26-34

 

Most of us, if we are honest, would admit that we are just sort of fumbling through life.  We do our best to keep up appearances.  That we have our act together.  That we are in control of our lives.  That we are decent and reliable and competent.  But the truth is we’re nowhere near as together as we project to other people.  If they knew our inner thoughts and struggles, we’d probably all be quite embarrassed.

One expression of this is what some people call, “impostor syndrome.”  That’s when you are hired for a certain job, or fill a certain role, and you secretly feel entirely unqualified to do it.  Sooner or later, you figure, people will discover that you’re a fraud, an impostor, and that you have no business doing whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.

I bring this up because Jesus makes a very interesting point in his first parable today, sometimes called the “Parable of the Growing Seed.”  You might say that the farmer in the story has to admit that he doesn’t know what he’s doing.  Maybe he, too, would have “impostor syndrome.”

The story is fairly simple, as it follows the process of a seed that is sown, sprouts, grows, produces fruit, and finally is harvested.  We’ve all seen this process in the plant world from a very early age, when in Kindergarten we grew a bean sprout in a wet paper towel. 

But Jesus’ parables always have some kind of twist or surprise.  And here we may have to look a little closer to see it.  The farmer who planted this seed, who will eventually reap the harvest, he really has very little to do with the process after all.  He scatters the seed, and then simply goes about his regular business.  He sleeps.  He rises.  We might imagine he does his daily chores, reads the newspaper, goes to the store, and does whatever farmers do while their crops are growing.

But that’s just it, he’s not really doing anything to make those seeds grow.  He’s not out there with UV lamps, fine tuning them with just the right amount of energy.  He’s not the seed whisperer, talking to his plants in just the right way to coax the growth.  He certainly has no DNA expertise to bring to bear.  He just does his own thing, gets on with his life, and the seeds grow.  Jesus says, “He knows not how.”  What an understatement.

It is God who has this all worked out.  It is God who gives the growth.  Who designed the seed.  Who built the universe with its chemical interactions and laws of physics.  Who established photosynthesis so that this tiny plant can convert the energy of the sun into food for you and me.  Who makes seeds, which appear dead, to spring to life when the conditions are just right.  And of course, he set the weather in motion, with its seasons, and goldilocks temperatures and exactly the right atmosphere, and who gives soil for the plant to grow in, and a whole ecosystem to keep that soil full of nutrients.  To say, “the seed grows, and he knows not how” is really a remarkable statement. 

Such is the kingdom of God.

You and I tend to think we know what the church needs to thrive.  We act as if we are the experts who should be dolling out the prescription – and trust me, no one is more susceptible to this than us pastors.  If the church would only… knock on doors… then we would grow.  If we would only… reach out into the community.  If we would only… have the right youth program.  If we could just, each person, invite a friend to church.  If only the sermons were a little longer, or a little shorter, or had a few more jokes.  If only the music was a little faster, or a little louder.  If only people would love each other more and sin less.  THEN we would see the growth.  THEN our pews and our offering plates would be full.  THEN droves of sinners would come to faith in Jesus Christ and be saved.  And maybe then we could all feel quite pleased with ourselves, too.

But that’s not how it goes, is it?  The church can do all the right things and still not see the growth we desire.  And the church can do many wrong things, and God can still bless her.  Furthermore, the danger of measuring, is that we may measure the wrong things.  We may say, “oh, look how many people”, but there may be little fruit, and little root, though the branches are green and the stalks are tall.  Quantity doesn’t mean quality. 

All this is to say, that whether we speak of the church as a whole or as the individual Christian, the principle is the same:  God gives the growth.  And we know not how.  We can claim credit, in our arrogance.  We can claim understanding, in our ignorance.  But God alone grows his church, and God alone gives repentance unto faith.

Now, the farmer faithfully planted the seed.  And the church and its pastors must faithfully preach the Word.  This we are called to do, and given to do.  But we let God handle the results.  We let God do his job, and we do ours.  We love him and our neighbor in the vocations to which he has called us, as faithfully as we can, and rely on his grace when and where we fail.  It’s that simple.  Like the farmer who goes about his business, trusting that nature will take its course.  So we go about our business, trusting that Christ will build his church.

The second parable is that of the mustard seed.  And it has a similar point.  The principle is this:  The kingdom may start small, but it grows in surprising ways.  Just as one of the smallest seeds leads to one of the largest bushes, and even has room for birds to make their nests in its branches.  So, too, does the humble Word of God have great power in its effects.

The simple words of baptism prove to be a life-long comfort sure.  The straightforward promise of Jesus, that his body and blood are given and shed for you, and that for the forgiveness of your sins.  And the absolution of a pastor – your sins are forgiven – and they are!  And heaven itself is opened to you! 

Or the small beginnings of the church, and of our faith, on a dark Friday, in a backwater province, on a hill outside the city, where a humble man was crucified with a couple of criminals.  No fanfare.  No angelic choir.  Just an innocent man, forsaken by God, dying in agony.  And yet from this seed, planted on Calvary, and from his death and burial, life burst forth on the third day.  And life has been abundant in him ever since. 

We all come to roost and nest in the branches of his tree (the cross).  We all find our shelter in his church.  In surprising and wonderful ways, we know not how, but God provides for us individually, and together, as a congregation names Messiah, and as the holy Christian Church writ large. 

Such is the kingdom of God.  Such is the mystery of God’s ways.  We know not how.  We’re the impostors, but he’s the expert, the designer, and the giver of all good things.  We know not how he does it all, but we know him who does it, and does it all for us, and he is faithful, even Jesus Christ our Lord.  That’s how his kingdom is.  Therefore continue to trust in him.