The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN
The 7th Sunday after Pentecost
July 12, 2026
| Isaiah 55:10-13 Psalm 65: (1-8), 9-14 Romans 8:1-11 Matthew 13:1-9,18-23 |
Here we are, in the middle of another summer in Greeneville. This time of year, I enjoy driving around and seeing how green everything is… Especially since we are having those mid-afternoon pop-up thunderstorms. The crops look pretty good… Since I’ve been here in Greeneville, I’ve learned that people who live in Greeneville know how to grow things.
Almost everyone has a garden. Some have a few tomato plants in raised beds. Some grow enough vegetables to keep the freezer full all winter. Others tend to fields and farms that have been in the family for generations. There is something hopeful about putting a seed into the ground. You prepare the soil... You water... You wait... You trust that something you cannot see is happening beneath the surface.
Perhaps we need that reminder this year. Because, if we’re honest, it hasn’t been an easy season for us. Every day seems to bring about another headline that makes us wonder what tomorrow will hold. We continue to hear of devastating floods that have swept away communities, families struggling under the rising cost of living, wars that continue to claim innocent lives, and political divisions that only seem to get deeper.
There is an endless stream of voices competing for our attention. Even when we step away from the television and put down our phones, many of us carry with us a quiet anxiety about the future. In our world, which often feels unsettled, we hear Jesus tell us a story about a farmer sowing seed.
At first glance, it seems almost too simple. But perhaps simple is exactly what we need. Most of us aren’t farmers in the ancient sense. We know enough about gardens to understand that healthy plants don’t just happen. The soil matters... The weather matters... The roots matter. But very few of us know what it means to depend entirely on the harvest for our survival, as Jesus’ first listeners did.
If their crops failed, there was no grocery store waiting down the road. Still, we understand enough to hear what Jesus is saying when he says, “A sower went out to sow.”
As you know, I like to engage Scripture by imagining ourselves inside the story. So first, I would like us to imagine ourselves as the sower. As Christians, that is exactly who we are. Every day we scatter seeds of God’s Kingdom... Sometimes with our words... Sometimes with our actions. Sometimes simply by choosing kindness when everyone else seems angry. Sometimes by refusing to join the outrage that dominates our social media feeds. Sometimes, by listening before speaking. Sometimes by forgiving instead of keeping score.
In every act of mercy, in every word of hope... and in every moment of compassion are the seeds of God’s Kingdom. And notice something remarkable. The sower doesn’t ration the seed. He doesn’t inspect the ground first. He doesn’t decide who deserves it. He simply sows generously.
That is God’s way. God’s grace is never offered only to the people who have earned it. It is scattered abundantly. That means our calling is not to decide who is worthy of hearing the Gospel or receiving our love… Our calling is to simply keep sowing... To keep telling the story... To keep loving... To keep serving. To keep trusting that God can bring about life where we cannot.
But then Jesus invites us to look at the story from another angle. This time, we are not the sower. We are the soil. And that may be more difficult for us to envision. What kind of soil are we becoming? Have our hearts become like the path? Packed down by disappointment... Hardened by grief... Closed by fear... Have we heard so many arguments, accusations, and angry voices that we no longer hear God’s gentle invitation?
Or perhaps we are the rocky soil. We receive God’s Word with joy on Sunday… But by Tuesday, the worries of work, family, finances, and the relentless pace of life have crowded it out before it can take root.
Or maybe we recognize the thorns... The distractions. Not necessarily bad things. Just too many things. The endless doom scrolling. The constant notifications. The pressure to produce more, earn more, and accomplish more. The temptation to believe that our value comes from our success rather than from God’s love. The desire to win every argument rather than seek understanding. These things slowly wrap themselves around our lives until they choke the life that Christ desires to grow within us.
And then there is the good soil. We need to understand that good soil isn’t necessarily “perfect soil.” It is prepared soil. It is soil that has been broken open... Cultivated... Watered... and patiently tended. Perhaps this is why some of the deepest faith we ever encounter comes from people who have been broken… people who have suffered. Not because suffering is good. But because hardship often breaks open our hearts in ways comfort never could. God has a way of bringing life from places we thought were beyond hope.
Unlike many of Jesus’ parables, he actually takes time to explain this one. Yet knowing the explanation doesn’t make it any less challenging. Because this parable of the sower asks us to examine both our mission and our hearts. The seed and the soil...
We are the sowers. As we scatter God’s love freely. Not only toward people who think like us, or vote like us, or agree with us. But toward everyone, because every person bears the image of God. But we are also the soil. Every day, we are deciding whether our hearts will become more open or more closed. More generous or more fearful. More trusting or more cynical.
The remarkable thing is that God never stops sowing. Even when the ground is hard. Even when there are rocks. Even when weeds have begun to grow. God continues to scatter grace with carefree and abundant generosity. That means there is always hope.
The soil can be cultivated. The rocks can be removed. The weeds can be pulled. The heart can be transformed. Perhaps that is the very invitation that Jesus is offering us today. In a world filled with fear, we are to become good soil. In a culture that rewards outrage, to sow peace. In a time when people are quick to condemn, to sow mercy. In a season when many wonder whether hope still exists, to sow hope.
Because the Kingdom of God has always grown this way. One seed at a time, one life at a time, one act of grace at a time. So may God cultivate our hearts to receive the abundance of the word deeply. May Christ remove the weeds, rocks, and thorns… whatever keeps us from growing. And may the Holy Spirit send us into the world as generous sowers of God’s love, trusting that even the smallest seed scattered can bear a harvest beyond anything we could ever imagine.
No comments:
Post a Comment