July 19, 2020
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43, CEB[1]
Have you ever felt like a weed?
All around you are these “shiny, happy people”[2]
who seem to have it all together. Like that pop song, they’re “doing all right, gettin' good grades, the
future's so bright [they] gotta wear shades.”[3] You are far from all right, nothing is
coming together, and the future is filled with storm clouds. You’re barely
keeping your head above water as everything is falling apart. You’re a mess.
You feel like a weed in a field of wheat. You know what? Me too.
Summertime throws off the routine around my house. We try to schedule
some camps and other activities for our boys, but this year, with coronavirus,
there’s not much to do but get bored and slowly go crazy. Felicia and I try to
manage the chaos. She usually does better than me. I try to be calm, patient,
and mature – a nice stalk of wheat. But I can be short tempered, especially
when I’m stressed, so at times I’m more like a weed. Sure, there are plenty of
shiny, happy moments like playing with a new basketball hoop or when a distant
friend calls, but there are plenty of storms, too. Ask me how things are going,
however, and I’ll probably just say, “Great!”
We have a tendency to project an image that everything is fine, even when
it isn’t. When I ask you in passing how you’re doing, I don’t expect you to
actually tell me. I expect you to say fine, good, OK. Sometimes I get a lot
more, probably because of my role here in the church. Some people give more
interesting answers like “unbelievable,” and I love that because it stops me
for a second. But the usual exchange of pleasantries leaves the impression that
everyone is doing great.
Even in church, where we try to support one another, we tend to put up a
good front rather than be truly honest about the depth of our brokenness. We
don’t want to talk about the weeds sown alongside the wheat in our lives.
Everywhere buildings like this are filled
with people who appear content and at peace, but who are screaming inside for
someone to notice them, to love them just as they are. Someone here is
confused, frightened, frustrated, feeling lost or guilty. Someone is having
trouble communicating how they feel, even with those they love most. Someone is
looking around seeing all these self-sufficient, happy people who seem to have
it all together. Rarely do we have the courage to admit our deep needs before
others.
That sounds a lot like me. As a
church family, we talk about the big stuff – those who have died, are having
surgery or cancer treatments, and the birth of babies. But we rarely mention
the smaller troubles, the addictions, the stress and anxiety, the weeds that
fill up our fields.
Maybe everything is wrong, and
there’s no hope. We’re all a bunch of weeds, and the harvest time is coming. Is
there really even any wheat in the field at all? In his letter to the Romans,
Paul writes, “As it is written, ‘There is no righteous person, not even one.’”[4]
But that can’t be. It can’t all be wrong, because I can see joy, and beauty,
and kindness. I know there is truth, justice, peace, and love. I can see wheat
being gathered into the barn. Even if it is hard to see good things amidst all
the evils that surround us, the evidence of goodness is there.
In the parable, the householder
is worried that the field hands will uproot the wheat along with the weeds.
Perhaps this is because, in the early stages of growth, you can’t tell the
weeds from the wheat. Outwardly, they look the same. It is only after a lifetime
of growth that the wheat begins to show its golden color. It is only after the
hardships, the trials, the failures, the brokenness, the awfulness of life have
been experienced that the golden moments begin to shine out in comparison.
If Paul is right, there are
really only weeds in the field anyway. But, ours is a faith in the
resurrection, in transformation, in the ability of God to change a sinner into
a saint. We all have within us the potential to be wheat as well as weeds. The
good and the bad dwell within us, and they grow together until the harvest
time. The good and the bad within us are there until the very end. It is only
at the end that the reapers separate the good and the evil within us, toss the
evil on the fire, and welcome the good part of us into glory.
As human beings we are both
weeds and wheat, good and bad, right and wrong. Our world, and ourselves, are a
complex mix of both. Perhaps that is why the really popular films, the
“blockbusters,” are so appealing. The heroes and the villains are easily
identified, the right choice is always clear, and happy endings are to be
expected. Real life, unfortunately, seldom offers such clarity. But we are
called to live in the real world.
We’re not all that good at
weeding, as the householder in the parable knows. When we attempt to eradicate evil,
we always pull up some wheat along with the weeds. The Salem witch trials in
colonial Massachusetts were an attempt to rid the towns of evildoers. Now we
look on that event as a tragedy, and we use “witch-hunt” to describe a search
for dissenters or scapegoats. Today, even with all of our military technology,
there is always “collateral damage,” innocent victims killed in the attempt to
destroy “key elements” of the enemy. Nuclear power generation, which is
reliable and emission-free, produces waste that is deadly for tens of thousands
of years.
It seems we can’t do this alone.
There are too many weeds, and they are growing too close to the wheat within
us. We must invite God into the gardens of our soul to tend our growth. In the
explanation Jesus gives of the meaning of the parable, it is clear that sorting
out the weeds and the wheat is not the job of human beings – the reapers in the
parable are angels. David Buttrick, a professor at Vanderbilt, asks, “When will
we understand; we are not God to judge, not God to purge, not God to redeem the
earth. We have weeds sown in our souls, and we stand in the need of mercy.”[5]
Now this doesn’t mean we don’t
need to do any weeding at all. Gardening without weeding doesn’t make sense.
The weeds use up valuable nutrients, suck up energy and time, keep us from
growing into our full potential. To just let the weeds grow with the wheat
doesn’t make sense. Jesus didn’t make sense either. He kept breaking the rules,
eating with sinners and tax collectors, forgiving sins, healing on the Sabbath.
You see, Jesus didn’t come for the wheat. Jesus came for the weeds. The
Pharisees said to the disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors
and sinners?” and Jesus answered, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor, but sick
people do… I didn’t come to call righteous people, but sinners.”[6]
Jesus came to weed out our souls, and just when it seems that the whole field
of our lives has gone over to weeds.
God likes to put on a big show.
There are many stories in the Bible of God setting people up for certain
failure and then bringing about a glorious victory. In the seventh chapter of
Judges, the Midianites came to battle against Gideon, with an army “spread
across the valley like a swarm of locusts; their camels were too many to count,
like the grains of sand on the seashore.”[7]
And God said to Gideon, “You have too many people on your side. If I were to
hand Midian over to them, the Israelites might claim credit for themselves
rather than for me, thinking, We saved ourselves.”[8]
In order for there to be no doubt that the victory will belong to God, and not
Israel, Gideon sent home all but three hundred of his soldiers. Three hundred
against a vast army – only God could have brought about that victory.
In Matthew, Jesus has to feed
five thousand families with five loaves and two fish. But when they took up the
leftovers, twelve baskets of broken pieces remained. The twelve disciples were
sent out early in their training to cast out unclean spirits, cure diseases,
and proclaim the good news. They were sent “as sheep among wolves.”[9]
Yet they endured, and twelve returned from the mission.
One of my favorite musicians,
David Wilcox, wrote about this last-minute, against-the-odds story that God
likes to write.
Look, if someone wrote a play just to glorify what's stronger than hate
Would they not arrange the stage to look as if the hero came too late?
He's almost in defeat; it's looking like the evil one will win
So, on the edge of every seat, from the moment that the whole thing begins.[10]
And, what is the greatest act of
God? Betrayed by a friend, deserted by his followers, condemned, tortured,
denied, mocked, and finally crucified like a common criminal, Jesus seems to
have come to a tragic end. None but God could accomplish the inconceivable,
transforming death into resurrection.
Our lives may be filled with
weeds, but if we trust in God to bring us to the harvest, we shall be
transformed. God can take this field of weeds and fill the barns with wheat. As
Christians, then, let us live as though we are the wheat. As Marianne
Williamson wrote, “We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to
make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us;
it's in everyone.”[11]
When you pray, ask God to come weed out your life so that the good seed that
was sown in your soul may shine forth. It is to the glory of God that out of
this field full of weeds, a glorious harvest will come.
[1] Scripture quotations are taken from the Common English
Bible, copyright 2011. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
[2]
Michael Stipe and R.E.M., “Shiny Happy People,” Out of Time (Warner Bros., 1991).
[3]
Timbuk3, "The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades," Greetings from Timbuk3 (I.R.S. Records,
1986).
[4]
Romans 3:10.
[5]
David Buttrick, Speaking Parables: A
Homiletic Guide (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), 96.
[6]
Matthew 9:11-13.
[7]
Judges
[8]
Judges 7:2.
[9]
Matthew 10:16.
[10]
David Wilcox, “Show the Way” on Big
Horizon, copyright © 1994 by A&M Records.
[11] Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles", (Harper Collins, 1992), Ch. 7, Sec. 3.
No comments:
Post a Comment