Mystery in the Kingdom, Take 2

He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come” [Mark 4:26-29].

Last week’s meditation didn’t work as I would have liked. If you haven’t read it, just skip on down two paragraphs. If you did read it and agree with me that it lacked something, then let me clarify just a bit further.

What I was trying to do was present what I think is a hanging question in the Adam-Eve-serpent-forbidden fruit story, that while the story has been used to describe (a) humanity’s fall; (b) the way in which evil came into our world; (c) the serpent as the embodiment of evil; and (d) the way death came to humanity, one needs the help of Paul, Augustine, and countless other commentators over a period of 2,000 years to do so, since the text itself speaks of none of those issues explicitly.

I posited that there remained, however, a dangling question that did seem to be pushed forward by the explicit text itself; to-wit: “Why did God put the tree of knowledge of good and evil in the midst of the Garden in the first place? Last week, I proposed that God did so because God desires to teach us that there is something about life that always is shrouded in mystery. As I said last Wednesday, “The LORD God entwines some of His most precious gifts in mysteries retained by God only for himself.” There was mystery in the Garden. There is mystery in our lives today.

I recently shared a lively, but poignant conversation with Jane Harper, a close friend from our Trinity Avenue Presbyterian years. One point in calling “my other Jane,” as I sometimes refer to her, was to check on her medical progress. During an April trip to England, she had spent four days in the Royal London Hospital with pneumonia. Receiving excellent care in London, a weakened Jane returned to Durham, only promptly to contract COVID-19.

In her usual cheerful fashion, Jane assured me that she was now back in stride. Our conversation then turned to the second reason for my call. I wanted to check up on Katie Harper-Spellings—or rather, the Reverend Katie Harper-Spellings—Dan and Jane’s lovely daughter, who for the past two years or so has been serving as the pastor for Cross Roads Presbyterian Church, in Mebane.

During our conversation, Jane wistfully paused and said, “I’m so proud of Katie that I can’t put it into words. And what’s more, I’m inspired by her. Although I know that all good comes from God, still I look at our daughter and I think, ‘Katie, how did you become so caring? How did you become so generous? How did you become so Spirit-filled?”

And I said, “Well, the core reason is that for all these years, she’s been watching you.” Over many years, Katie watched Jane dutifully sing in the TAPC choir, and serve as a deacon and elder. She watched Jane work as a devoted caregiver at UNC Hospital, both as a mammography nurse/technician and later as supervisor of that important department. She watched her be a loving wife, mother, and friend.

I went on to allow that Jane and Dan had planted many small seeds during Katie’s twenty-something years. And in Katie’s case, those seeds had taken root. They had sprouted, and they had blossomed into amazing fruit. It’s the sort of message that Jesus is trying to present to the “very large crowd gathered around him” beside the sea [Mark 4:1].

Teaching the assembled crowd “many things in parables [4:2], Jesus relates, in the Gospel lesson appointed for this upcoming Sunday, Mark 4:26-34 [the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year B], that the kingdom of God is somewhat like being a parent. It is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground. At the time the seed is planted, the farmer knows not whether it will grow or wither. He need not understand the intricate systems of genes, dominant and recessive traits, DNA, or agricultural sciences. Once scattered by the farmer, the growth of the seed depends not upon the farmer, but upon a sovereign God who sends sun and rain (or doesn’t).

Somewhat like my friend, Jane, as she gazes upon her daughter, at harvest time, the farmer looks at his abundance and says to himself, “How did all this happen?” If he answers truthfully, he likely admits, “I don’t know.” This week’s Gospel lesson teaches that the answer is shrouded in wonderful, beautiful mystery.

I’m sure you know daughters and sons who, like Katie, reflect the goodness that is in their parents. Slowly over time, sometimes timidly, sometimes boldly, the parents sow seeds in their disparate actions. The parents’ example is good; the seed is good. Others sow seeds as well. They may be teachers, or neighbors, or grandparents. There are many seeds that are sown. And then, the harvest is good, for the seeds sprout and grow in ways that could never be imagined. The parent looks at his/her “child,” and is amazed by the mystery of life.

Part of the mystery is that we know other parents who also work hard to plant good seeds, parents who provide a good example, and still, the harvest is different. It’s lacking. Somewhere along the line, the seeds have not sprouted for good. The son or daughter makes unfortunate and expensive choices. One might look at the adult child and say, “But he had such caring parents (or teachers/friends).” How and why does this happen? Again, it’s all shrouded in mystery.

In His short parable, Jesus is telling us that this same sort of mystery is at the heart of the Kingdom of God. Our task is to sow the seed. We do so by living in concert with the values set and taught by Jesus. When we forgive, when we visit the sick or imprisoned, when we care for the hungry, the thirsty, and those who are desperate, we plant Kingdom seeds. We do so as well when we refuse to strike back, when we give not only our cloak, but our shirt, and when we offer protection to those who are most vulnerable.

In each case, each time we sow a seed, we can be no more sure that it will produce fruit than can the farmer in Jesus’ parable be sure that he will enjoy a bountiful harvest. The results are shrouded in mystery. But our job is not to make the seed grow; it’s to sow the seed in the first place.

This is the way of the Kingdom. God the Father creates the entire cosmos. God the Son, in the form of the Risen Christ, shows us the Way, the Truth, the Life. God the Holy Spirit empowers and guides us as we move along that pathway. God can take our smallest action and turn it into seed that grows. God can change a church through the actions of one or two individuals. God can change the course of history through the life and actions of a small group of believers. God can do this because the growing aspect is always within His control. It is within His purview, not ours.

As human beings, we often profess to enjoy mystery, but in reality, we crave certainty. We revel in scientific explanations and tidy answers. Yet, the Kingdom of God defies such expectations. It operates on a plane beyond our full comprehension, reminding us that true faith embraces the unknowable and the unexplainable.

I think that there is at least one more important part of God’s mystery. We are not to sow our seed just in those places that we think will offer the most likelihood of growth and maturity. We are not to play it safe. Instead, we are to sow seed everywhere. In another of His parables, Jesus tells us about a sower who spreads his seed knowing that some of it will fall on a path where it will be eaten by birds. He sows other seed knowing that it will fall among the rocks. Other seed will fall within the thorns. Only a portion of the sower’s seed is destined for the deep loamy soil that assures growth and maturity.

That’s because the LORD God loves mystery. He planted a special tree in the midst of the Garden. He could have revealed all its secrets to Adam and Eve. He chose not to do so. He tells us to sow. He could reveal upfront what the product of our effort will be. He choses not to do so. Such is the nature of the glorious Kingdom.