My Small Boat

June 20, 2021 
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Psalm 107:1, 23-31; Mark 4:35-41[1]

When I read this passage in Mark’s Gospel, I imagine myself in a small boat on a storm-tossed sea. The wind blows and the waves threaten to swamp the craft and I am holding on for dear life. I’ve never been in a real storm at sea, only a metaphorical one, but I can imagine the fear of that moment.

Another image that comes to mind is of a small, a wedge-shaped wood block, a brass plaque with raised lettering which reads, “O, God, thy sea is so great and my boat is so small.”  This is the opening to an old Breton fisherman’s prayer, and was traditionally given to new submarine captains by Admiral Hyman Rickover. The Admiral gave this plaque to President John F. Kennedy, who kept it on his desk in the Oval Office.

What is my small boat against the storms of the world? The wind and waves of life imperil my fragile vessel, and even my faith seems small against the tempests. You may feel this way as well, when fear overtakes you. And there is much in our world that can cause us fear. We fear illness and financial losses, failure, disapproval, and embarrassment; and always, we fear death – our own death, the death of loved ones, and the demise of what we have known brought about by changes.

It is important to note that Jesus doesn’t say, “There’s nothing to fear.” The storm was a real threat to that boat on the Sea of Galilee, and the storms that assail us are fearsome as well. What Jesus says is, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”[2] It is a distinction that matters.

Imagine a small child, awakened in the night by the monsters in a dream, in the closet, or under the bed. The mother rushes to the bedroom, scoops the child up in her arms, and sits in the rocking chair. Wiping the tears from small eyes, the father whispers, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The monsters aren’t real.” That may suffice for the night, for a child innocent of the world, but it’s not true. There are real monsters.

Now, the real monsters don’t look like the Pixar characters in Monster’s Inc.® They look more like isolation, chronic pain, addiction, rejection, job loss, financial strains, self-sabotage, illness, and grief. Sometimes they look like people, people without qualms, hesitations, empathy, or remorse. There are monstrous people who are so certain they are right, or the other is wrong, that any means is justified in service to their version of the truth. These monsters are terrifying because they are real.

When we feel that there is too much to fear, that the monsters are circling, that the storm is already swamping the boat, we want to scream at Jesus, asleep in the stern. “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”[3] God, where are you when we need you? The storms are so great and our faith is so small. In the silence that follows, there comes a whisper, “Fear not, for I am with you.”

Though the fearsome things are real, they don’t control us. They don’t get the last word, because God is mightier than they. The angels keep saying it, to the shepherds keeping watch and the women at the empty tomb, “Do not be afraid.” Jesus wakes, rebukes the wind and calms the sea. What you fear is real, yes, but you are not alone, for God is here, and even the wind and sea obey.

The truth is that some things which frighten us are real, and some are not. When our emotions get the best of us, it can be difficult to discern misdirection, half-truths, and lies from the truth. Even so, some of what we fear is real, and only through courage born of faith can we endure the storm. Only by recognizing that even if Jesus seems to be sleeping, he is there in the boat with us. And we too easily forget that line in verse 36, that even though Jesus was in one boat with the disciples, “Other boats were with him.”[4] My small boat is not alone on the sea; your boats are sailing along with mine.

There are many stories of those who have found courage through faith. One of mine comes in the words of Emily Brontë, an English novelist who is best known for writing Wuthering Heights. Her mother and two siblings died when she was young, and she suffered illness and isolation. In 1846, she published a book of poetry with her sisters Charlotte and Anne titled Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. One of the poems, “No Coward Soul Is Mine,”[5] expresses Emily’s dauntless and elemental spirit.

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven’s glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from Fear.

O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life – that in me hast rest,
As I – Undying Life – have power in Thee!

What faith teaches us is that even though there are real monsters and fearsome storms in life, the God who raised Jesus from the grave remains with us. What we fear need not paralyze us, does not have to control us, because we are not alone in our small boats. “Peace! Be still!”[6] Fear not, have faith, for I am with you. “O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good; God’s steadfast love endures forever.”[7]  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Mark 4:40.

[3] Mark 4:38.

[4] Mark 4:36.

[5] Emily Brontë, “No Coward Soul Is Mine,” in Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell, 1846.

[6] Mark 4:39.

[7] Psalm 107:1.

Seeds of the Mountain

June 13, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Ezekiel 17:22-24; Mark 4:26-34[1]

What does it take for a seed to grow? Ask any gardener, or farmer, and I’m sure they can tell you. You can probably ask any preschooler too. My kids have brought home more than one plastic cup filled with dirt and seeds. Soil, water, and sunlight. That’s about it.

Jesus liked to tell stories using images that would be familiar to pretty much anyone who would listen. The kingdom of God is like… a seed planted in the soil, a traveler on the road, a vineyard. The kingdom of God is like those little helicopter maple seeds all over my backyard. No, wait, that’s one of my parables. Never mind.

If you think about it, what a seed really needs most is time. Sure, we can prepare the soil, water it, and ensure that there is adequate sunlight. But we have to let it grow. And most of what we do for the seed is dependent on things out of our control. The sun may not shine today, or the rain may stop for a week. The soil may be too acidic, and the insects or neighborhood rabbits may eat the new growth. If the seed is going to grow, it is out of our hands.

In the parable, the one who scattered the seed on the ground doesn’t really do anything to make it grow. In fact, in the parable, the planter sleeps and rises, and the seed sprouts and grows. The planter doesn’t seem to do much at all. It is the spark of life within the seed itself that grows.

This patient waiting doesn’t fit within our busy world of fast food, on demand entertainment, and instant internet access. Hard work is how you get ahead, not sitting around waiting for something to happen. If you want it done, you have to do it yourself. Staying busy makes sense to us humans. It is our normal way life. We can achieve all sorts of great things through hard work: good grades, better gadgets, healthier bodies, neatly trimmed lawns, and so on. These things don’t happen on their own. We have to work for them. But that is not the way everything works, and that is what Jesus is trying to tell us.

Jesus upends the expectations of the world and seeks God in a way of life that is radically different than what we’re used to. We want to fuss over the seed, weed around it, measure the water content of the soil, spray it with Miracle Grow, move it around to get more sun. Jesus tells us to rest, be patient, and trust that all will be well. The seed has been planted, now it is no longer up to you. Let God do the work of making the seed grow. Come back around when the grain is ripe, and you’ll see.

Now, there is another question in this imagery. What does it take for a soul to grow? Through these parables, Jesus is trying to tell us that spiritual growth and intimacy with God can only come with patience and trust, the way a seed grows. God already loves us and love is the power that makes us grow. It might take some time, though.

I believe that seeds are time-capsules of divine power. A seed can be dormant, lying in the ground, or stored carefully away for a long time. A gardener once wrote, “A seed... has withdrawn from the stream of time. Often tiny, hard, dry, closed off from the world, to all appearances ‘dead,’ seeds carry the life of a plant through the death of winter.”[2] It is dead, and then comes to life. Where have I heard that before? A seed has a life all its own, beyond our feeble attempts to control it. Planted too early, a seed will wait, knowing by its own nature when to germinate. By trying to control it too much, by overwatering, too many chemicals, or too much poking and prodding, we do more damage than good.

Within the seed is the story of life lived in God. The divine spark is planted within us, and it will grow within us, we know not how, all on its own. We can stop from time to time notice how it grows within us. We can even recognize its growth in others. But no amount of anxiety or coaxing can make it grow any faster or better. God is the one who will make the kingdom come, and it will be in God’s good time. Do you remember John Denver’s song, “Rocky Mountain High”? “Talk to God and listen to the casual reply.” Patient faith is the faith that grows.

Each seed has a story, a history that can only be interpreted with patience. What will this one become? Who first cultivated this plant, harvesting the good seed and discarding the bad, nurturing beneficial traits through careful husbandry? Did this seed grow wild here, or was it brought by the Spaniards, English colonists, or German settlers, and passed on with care? Will it grow to be a big shrub, a tall cedar, or maybe a Giant Sequoia? The story of the seed will only be truly revealed in the harvest. We’ll just have to wait.

The seeds of faith are sown each week as we gather, and every time we connect with one another. They may fall into a fallow field, or “on the mountain height of Israel” (Ez 17:23). We just plant the seeds. We sleep and rise. Thankfully, it is up to God to nurture the growth of souls.

If patience is the message of the first parable, then expectation is the message of the second. The mustard plant, common in the ancient near east, grew and spread quickly. A lot like the Creeping Charlie growing in my backyard, but I didn’t plant that! Mustard was not something you wanted in your garden. Pliny, the ancient Roman scientist wrote, “when it has once been sown it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it.”[3] From one small seed you could expect that in a couple of seasons you’ll have a mustard garden, and not much else.

It is almost a joke, the way that Jesus uses the mustard seed as a metaphor for the kingdom of God. If you’re going to use a plant metaphor, why not the Cedar? The great cedars of Lebanon were the most imposing tree in the ancient near east. Now that’s a powerful symbol for God’s kingdom, a great big tree! In the Ezekiel text, it is a sprig of the cedar that God plants on the mountain. But the cedar could also be seen as a symbol of pride, and God brings low the high tree, and makes high the low tree. And even a shrub can make shade for the birds.

If your expectation of the kingdom is of a place grand and glorious, set aside for the high and mighty, then you would expect a cedar tree. But Jesus gives us the mustard seed, something proverbially small, and promises the kingdom of God. Maybe it is our expectations that are off. Maybe the kingdom isn’t meant for the high and mighty. Maybe the kingdom is meant for what is seen as insignificant, a refuge for the outcast, the sinner, the lonely, and the lost.

What we can do, really all we can do, is to plant the seeds. We plant the seeds of faith and wait to see how they will grow. Some will sprout and yield a bountiful harvest. Some will grow like mountains. Some will grow like a mustard shrub. Only time will tell. I hope that the kingdom grows like the mustard seed. It might not be as grand and glorious, but it will spread, and there will be room for all of us to nest in the shade.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] John Burns, Stella Natura Biodynamic Planting Calendar, 2013.

[3] Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Book XIX, paragraph LIV. Reference: https://www.loebclassics.com/.