How is Jesus not only the Sower, and the Seed, but also the Soil?
This Sunday's sermon was focused on Mark 4.1-20, which included what many theologians consider to be a sort of "watershed" parable by which you can either understand Jesus' teaching or you miss it. The primary point of the parable is that in order to receive Jesus' teaching we not only have to "believe" it but we have to trust it, and thankfully we are given a mighty reason to trust Jesus' word: as John 1 and John 12 combine to teach, the one who sows seed is also the seed Himself. The Divine Word is also the Word in flesh. And as the "seed" of wheat only produces fruit when it dies, so Jesus must go and die. Jesus is doing far more than giving a farming illustration. He is burying the wonder of his gracious atonement deep in the soil of the human heart, for those with ears to hear such a shocking and beautiful truth.
Once we have received this truth that is capable not only of being believed but is sacrificially loving enough to be trusted, we are now ready to apply it. But application presents that nagging problem: how am I, with all the elements of difficult soil going to live a changed, fruitful, life? In the worship guide I offered this application question:
Like most people, I'm sure you can identify places in your life where no good thing seems to grow. As a Christian that can be particularly discouraging as you seek to follow Jesus but long for more fruitfulness. How might Jesus' identity as the "soil" of our fruitfulness encourage you as you wait for signs of growth?
This isn't a point I spent enough time addressing in my sermon, but with our transition to weekly communion this year we have had an opportunity to re-frame our understanding of how God nourishes us to grow in his grace. Here's how I put it Sunday:
God gives you a meal that becomes your spiritual nourishment. As a matter of fact, it is one means by which we live fruitful lives. You could say that each week at the Lord’s table we find out that not only is Jesus the sower and the seed, but he’s also the soil. By that I mean that He is the means by which the seed of faith grows in us. This is a reason for hope tailor-made for those stuck in loops of unfruitfulness, those for whom nothing worthwhile seems to grow. God says I’ll be your place where things grow. Later in John 15 he uses another picture to tell that story. He says, I’m the vine and you’re the branches. Be connected to me by faith and you’ll bear fruit.
None of this assurance removes our responsibility to "wrestle through our own salvation with fear and trembling," as the Apostle Paul tells us in Philippians 2.12-13. It is not only right for us to labor alongside God as he cultivates faith in us, but even frustrating toil deeply connects us to even the most modest fruit. Still, the news is even better than that for all of us who are looking for fruit in hard-to-change hearts. The very next thing Paul says in this Philippians couplet after do the work, is, "for it is God who works in us, both to will and to work for his good pleasure."
God's commitment to our fruitfulness sure does give us reason for courage to know that every labor of spiritual growth is neither in vain nor is it hanging by the thread of human effort. This is such an important point that Jesus gives us His Table, to ensure that we do not miss it. The Lord's Table is a parable of parables, of sorts, at the heart of the worship service. For those who wish to be the means of their own spiritual nourishment it will be a table of empty symbolism. They will look at it and say I must be more spiritual so I can eat at that Table. But for the one with ears to hear, the Table will be set with a parable of God's mysterious grace, revealed: you must make every human effort to repent of your need to pay for this meal.
A woman once walked into church like an uninvited stranger. Or a lacrosse player slinked down in the pew hoping that if he couldn't see the worship service then the worship service couldn't see him. And at the front of the room was a Table and a Great Host seated behind it. None of them had anything to bring to the great Table, no qualifications, an unimpressive harvest that week. And the Host said to all: at this table it is not your body or your blood but Christ's that makes the Christian life fruitful.
In a supreme act of divine hospitality, Jesus tells you that you cannot sit unless you reject your own self-righteousness. You sit with nothing to give to that meal but your hunger. That is a heavy work in itself, perhaps one of the most difficult a human being can bear. It is hard to patiently seek the Lord while we wait for him to bring a harvest, as Jesus says, sixty or a hundred-fold what was sown. There are many discouragements, sins to confess, relationships needing repair, weeds and brambles to be uprooted. But the more we sit at the Table of the Lord by faith, the more we will be shaped for obedience by the generosity of his grace and empowered for Christian living by his presence.
What next?
Take some time to reflect on Philippians 2.12-13. How is God "at work" in you? In what ways is he challenging you in daily Bible reading, prayer, and even in the good care of a Christian friend?
As you review your day, consider the ways Jesus was present in your circumstances. Where can you express thanksgiving? Where did you see beauty or joy at work? Did someone forgive you? Did someone listen to you?
Consider that awareness of sin is a privilege of those in whom God's spirit is at work (1 John 1.7-9). Awareness of sin, followed by confession of our sin to God, is actually a sign of spiritual fruit! Dealing honestly with our souls is part of what God uses to cultivate the soil of the human heart. Set aside space in your day where you can be quiet before God, review your day, and express your need of God's grace, and receive it in his word (Ps. 51).