Sunday, June 17, 2018

"I Don't Know" - A sermon 6/17/18

I am from Hanover County, Virginia.  For those of you not familiar with it, it’s about 90 minutes south of here.  It is home of Randolph Macon College, it is the hometown of singer Jason Mraz, it is the birthplace of Mrs. Fearnow’s Brunswick Stew, and the namesake of our most famous export, Hanover tomatoes.  
    Hanover people love our tomatoes.  A few years ago I found some Hanover tomatoes in the Harris Teeter over by Foxchase and I publicly admit that I was so overcome with happiness that I teared up a bit.  We love our tomatoes and we use them as currency.  For those that grow them, the harvest always yields more tomatoes than it is possible to use in one season so we gift them to neighbors, relatives, acquaintances, strangers… We give special people not just tomatoes but sometimes fresh salsa, tomato sauce, and sometimes the revered tomato pie. Your neighbor is having car trouble?  Take them a tomato.  The neighborhood boy cut your grass?  Pay him.  And send him home with some fresh salsa.  Someone let you go in front of them in the checkout line because you had 1 item and they had 9?  Follow them in the parking lot and give them a tomato.  Going to see the doctor?  That’s a two tomato pie situation.  One for the nurse and one for the doctor.  Hanover people also understand that 2 slices of bread, Duke’s mayonnaise, some salt, some pepper, and a slice of tomato is a full meal.  
    I am certain that there is more than one person who is listening to me right now and thinking that I have completely lost my mind.  That may be quite accurate.  And there are some sitting there wondering what makes a Hanover tomato superior to, say a beefsteak tomato or an heirloom tomato.  The answer I give to that inquiry is the same answer that everyone who has had a Hanover tomato will repeat: it’s the soil.  But inevitably the next question comes: “well what’s so special about the soil?”  And to that inquiry, I give the same answer I have been given over these years: “I don’t know”. 
I am sure it has something to do with the soil being rich in some elements and lacking other things and I am sure there are some people who can accurately answer what it is with the soil.  But for me, and countless other Hanover natives, the answer is: “I don’t know”.  I don’t know why the soil produces the world’s best tomato, it just does. 
By now I guess you are wondering what tomatoes have to do with our scriptures.  So let’s dive in, starting with the most obvious scripture first.  Mark.  Mark is my favorite gospel.  Why?  Because Mark has no time to waste.  He doesn’t bother with pleasantries or salutations.  He gets right down to business and doesn’t bother with needless details.  He is not fond of small talk.  Essentially, we know that if Mark says something, he thinks it is of the utmost importance.  So every time we encounter a passage from Mark, the first thing to ask ourselves is why did Mark think this was so important?  So let’s look at what’s going on here.  Jesus hits us with 2 rapid fire parables.  No time for questions or explanations.  And they are both parables about growing stuff. 
In the first parable, we have a farmer who is much like my Hanover folks.  He puts the seed into the ground and has no idea how it happens but all of the sudden he blinks and there is a harvest ready to be picked.  If we look at this in terms of the kingdom of God, we get a message regarding evangelism.  *Gasp* I said the E word! As we know, any word containing “evangelic” is such a loaded word.  But for this purpose we are going to think of it as “telling people about God”.  Methodism began as an evangelical movement though most of us don’t like to move from their pew during the passing of the peace.  Anyway, study after study reveals that the most effective way of evangelism is to develop a personal relationship with the person you want to bring to Christ.  The farmer has a personal relationship with the seeds and the soil he puts the seeds in.  When you are planting anything, tomatoes, flowers, corn, the gospel, you have to know your soil.  You also have to know your seed.  You have to know what seed will work with your soil.  Lemon trees don’t grow well in Hanover county.  You have to know the specific conditions your seeds need in order to grow.  Too little water makes the tomatoes shrivel and die.  Too much water causes the bottoms of the tomatoes to split.  We make the first move then God takes it from there.  Sure, the farmer has to ensure the seeds get sunlight, water, and food but God and nature take it from there.  Only God can take dried up seeds, water, dirt, and fertilizer and turn it into something so sweet.  And only God can take our dried up lives, mix in some rain, some sunshine,  some dirt and… fertilizer… and turn us into something so beautiful. 
Sure, that’s nice and poetic and is something that could easily be turned into a meme that we could all share on social media, but it doesn’t end there.  It’s barely the beginning.  That’s not where the parable ends.  We develop a relationship with someone and they see what life we live, they tell us that they want to know the secret to why we are so happy, so peaceful, so nice, so… whatever, and we tell them about God and we tell them about how much we love our church and we invite them.  Lo and behold, they accept.  They come in the door, they are greeted, they are loved, they eat the watermelon, drink the lemonade, they meet God, then we leave them alone?  No.  We put them on a committee.  Or five.  We put them in the choir.  We have them be a liturgist.  We make them an usher.  We make them greeters.  Our farmer in the parable doesn’t just leave his crop in the field to rot.  He gets out his harvesting tool and turns the grain into something useful. 
On first read, this parable seems straightforward but at second read, a certain ambiguity emerges.  This is a parable about the kingdom of God.  Exactly what part is like the kingdom of God?  What is our takeaway from this?  The kingdom of God is mysterious?  It may help to know that while our passage is translated “kingdom of God”, a better translation would be “reign of God”.  As any farmer, even amateur farmer, knows, farming is never over.  Even after the harvest, the farmer doesn’t just walk away.  The farmer is reviewing the previous crop and thinking of ways to improve or planning to replicate what they did right.  The farmer is working the soil.  Just as there is an error of thought that farming and growing end, there is an error in thinking that at any point, the kingdom of God is coming later.  Friends, the kingdom of God is here and now.  When we shift our thinking in that way, it helps us see God and the works of God in the everyday.
But also, the kingdom of God is not here yet.  If we think the kingdom of God is fully here, it lets us off the hook for being active participants in the kingdom.  As with so many other things in Christianity, it’s not an ‘either/ or”, it’s a “both/ and”.  We live in the tension of the “already” and the “not yet”.  Living in this tension makes us responsible for the seed, the soil, and calls us to action when the harvest is ready.  There is something mysterious and wonderful that God does in the middle there but our actions are continuous.  We plant and we sow.  After the harvest, we work the soil again.  We plant again.  God does God’s part and before we know it, it’s time for the harvest again.
The second parable from our passage in Mark actually bridges us back to our Hebrew Bible scripture.  It’s the parable of the mustard seed.  Versions of this parable appear in Matthew, Mark, and Luke.  In comparison, the parable of the mysterious growing seed only appears in Mark.  The parable of the mustard seed is one that most people are familiar with.  The tiniest of seeds grows to produce one of the mightiest trees.  This is where context is key.  In our modern times we are scarce impressed by the mustard seed or the mustard tree because we have seen smaller seeds and larger trees.  But when Jesus was talking to the disciples, he spoke of things that the everyday person would understand.  The smallest seed the ancient Jews knew produced the largest tree they were familiar with. 
So lets back it up to Samuel.  Last week, Pastor Bill talked to us about how the people demanded a king and God was all “Iiiiii’m not sure you know what you are asking for”.  To make an incredibly long story short, things didn’t go well.  Because as our scripture opens up with, “the Lord was sorry that the Lord made Saul king”.  But now a new king is needed.  Samuel meets Jesse’s sons and none of them are the right one.  We get the “spiritual truth bomb” from the Lord when he says “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart”.
This is not a new concept for us.  We see it played out in popular culture in movies like Cinderella and Kung Fu Panda.  The least likely candidate becomes the chosen one.  Just like the mustard seed, the smallest becomes the biggest.  This is a repeated theme in scripture.  I could keep you here until 1pm going over all of the instances but you get the idea.  In our story, the youngest son, David, becomes king.  The one that Jesse didn’t even bother introducing because he was so young and definitely would never be king.  
Our passage from Samuel opens with God asking how long Samuel is going to grieve.  God tells Samuel to bind his wounds and move on.  Seems pretty harsh, right?  God tells Samuel to make a sacrifice in memory of Saul but also reminds him that it’s time to move on, there is work to be done.  While it may feel like it, the world does not stop when changes and bad things happen.  Again, way harsh.  But God is simply stating something that all farmers and growers know.  You have to let go of the past to move to the future.  You have to remove the dead plants in order to make room for the new plants.  If you leave dead plants in their place, you have less room for new plants.  You can’t spend all your time dwelling on the failures because if you do, you aren’t giving proper attention to new plants.  And you must prune your plants to get them to grow.
There is a HUGE danger in that point though.  I am not saying we throw out people who seem to not be producing fruit.  I am not saying grief and mourning should be skipped.  I am also not saying God kills people on purpose to make room for new people.  And I am not saying God inflicts pain on us to teach us lessons.  Those are all dangerous ideas.  I am saying, however, that again it’s a “both/ and”.  We don’t have to choose between only looking back or only looking forward.  We can honor the past and still move forward.  If we completely disregard the past and forget our mistakes, we are doomed to repeat those mistakes and possibly make larger ones.  If we focus too much on past mistakes, it cripples us from moving forward. 
But moving forward is scary.  There is a certain vulnerability in moving on.  Which brings us to the last scripture.  Corinthians.  The passage reminds us that while change and new things are scary, we walk by faith and not by sight.  That doesn’t mean that things aren’t scary.  It means that when things are scary, we have the assurance that God is working behind the scenes.  My favorite example of this comes again from nature.  As we know, March is a fickle month.  It’s supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb.  But more often than not, we get more “lion” and less “lamb”.  Some of the worst snow storms I remember have come in March.  It’s cold.  It feels like we will never thaw out.  Days are short.  But somewhere in there, it begins.  The first daffodil breaks through the ground.  The first tree starts to get little bud nubs on their branches.  Even though conditions do not seem favorable for new life to spring forth, it does.  
And that is all well and good for nature but what about humans?  What about us in this sanctuary?  The good news comes to us in Corinthians.  Therefore if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation.  The old is gone and the new has come.  Only God can take something so dried up, so shriveled, so dead, mix it with dirt and sunshine, but still some fertilizer, and turn us into the most beautiful of all creatures.  It is only through reconciliation with God that we can truly live a new life in Christ and become the new creations God intend us to be. 
How does God do it?  I don’t know.  But it happened for King David, it happened for the mustard seed, it happened for the grain that mysteriously grows, it happened for me, and it has happened for you.  How do I know it happened for you?  Because you are here.  You know what else?  There is a whole world of people out there that are waiting to be harvested.  We don’t have to worry about transforming them.  God has that part under control.  All we have to do is invite them in, love them, and help them grow.  God does the rest.  Thank God for that.  May it be so, amen.