Sermon by Tom Are Jr. | May 26, 2024 | Fourth Presbyterian Church

Trinity Sunday
May 26, 2024

The Importance of Small Victories

Tom Are Jr.
Interim Pastor

Psalm 131
Matthew 13:1–9

Jesus was a storyteller. His stories were poignant and at times funny. He loved to tell stories of seeds and weeds, stories of religious folks who get it wrong and other folks whom you would never expect to get it right, but they do. His stories were both simple and extravagant and always a glimpse of a life that he called the kingdom of God — God’s promised day. To hear his stories is like putting on a new pair of glasses that allows you to see what has been there all along but you never noticed before.

Over the summer I want us to spend some time with the parables. In so doing, we will learn about this kingdom life, this promised day in which our ultimate citizenship resides.

Jesus says it’s like a sower who just threw seed everywhere.

I have no green thumb, but I’m married to one who does. Back in Kansas City, we had a small but quite productive garden. She taught me that planting anything means you have to amend the soil. We couldn’t plant anything until she had gone to the local nursery and purchased bags of soil. I told her we already had a yard full of soil, why didn’t she just use that. She said, “Tom that’s not soil, that’s dirt. If you want tomatoes, we need soil.” Well, I wanted tomatoes.

She taught me that unless the soil is good, the plants won’t thrive. They can have the right amount of water and the right amount of sunshine, but if all they have is dirt and not soil, no tomato and mozzarella salads for me.

Therefore, no farmer in her right mind will sow seed except in good soil. Except Jesus loves this hysterical farmer who, with extravagant carelessness, sows seed everywhere. On the rocky ground. Among the weeds. In the middle of Michigan Avenue. Anywhere will do. This farmer assumes he’s being paid for distribution rather than harvest. It’s no surprise that time after time the seed fails to bear fruit. What is surprising, almost miraculous, is that after considerable time the farmer finally stumbles onto some good soil, and boom. Bumper crop! Thirty, sixty, one hundredfold.

Clearly not a recommended strategy. This farmer could benefit from a conversation with my wife.

So, why does Jesus love this story?

Well, the seed is the gospel. And the gospel is not an idea or even a doctrine; the gospel is a way of life that is shaped by love. Jesus urges us to sow love anywhere and everywhere, because love is the power of the gospel. I say love is a power, because it is, but it is a tender power. Love is a strength, but it is a vulnerable strength, and its victories are often modest. Sometimes it simply fails to bear fruit.

But Jesus tells us to sow love anywhere, because you can’t always tell where the good soil is going to be.

Jesus is an honest storyteller. He knows that when it comes to living a life shaped by love we often fail. The church knows about rocky ground and weed-infested dirt. We know about failure, and it can be discouraging.

But if I understand the text, Jesus urges a resilience. Do not let our failures cause us to question the seed. Just keep sowing love.

I love this story, but I must admit that I am particularly drawn to the way Matthew tells it.

A little Bible study.

Mark was the first Gospel writer. Then fifteen or twenty years later, Matthew sits down to write his Gospel. When he does, he has a copy of Mark on his desk. And Matthew copies about 90 percent of Mark right into Matthew’s Gospel — just cut and paste, word for word.

But from time to time, Matthew finds something in Mark that he just can’t take, and he changes it. One of those places is the parable of the sower.

The story is identical until the end, and then Matthew does something intriguing. He reverses the order of the bumper crop. In Mark’s telling, the good soil produces thirty, sixty, one hundredfold. But Matthew doesn’t like that, and he says the good soil produces one hundred, sixty, thirty.

Why do you suppose he does that?

I don’t know for sure, but I wonder if writing twenty years later Matthew has had more opportunity to see that the promises of God do not always come in overpowering fashion. Maybe thirty, sixty, one hundred seems too triumphant for Matthew. Maybe he knows what it is to fail. Maybe he knows what it is to be discouraged.

But Matthew is not discouraged, because he has noticed in smaller harvests, in simple healings, in modest victories we still witness the fingerprints of God.

A couple months ago I told you about my brother Gene, who was born with special needs. He watches our livestream, and when I last spoke to him, he pointed out that I haven’t mentioned him to you in a couple months and that my sermons would be more interesting if I talked about him a bit more. (I should take a moment to say, “Good morning Gene. I’m going to tell my friends about you again.”)

My brother has a dream. His dream is to drive a car. Some folks want a car so that they can hit the road, get a taste of freedom, chase the horizon, but not Gene. He just wants to travel to see those he loves. I asked him, “Gene, where are you going to go?” When our dad was still alive, he said, “I’m going to go see Dad. Don’t tell him I’m coming.” “Your secret is good with me.” He said, “Then I’m going to see Mom and visit her in the nursing home. She would like to see me.” “She would love that, Gene.” “Then I might go see Jimmy [our baby brother]. But first, I’ll need to stop and get gas, and I’ll buy a Coke, is that alright, Brother?” “Gene, that’s great. But, Gene, when are you going to come see me?” He says, “Brother,” — or Bwuddah is what he calls me — “Bwuddah, you got your own car; you can come see me.”

So far that’s the only part of this dream that has come to pass.

Years ago, I was visiting him. We were eating at Shoney’s Big Boy. Do you know what that is? I took him there because he thinks that’s fine dining. We both ordered the cholesterol plate.

We were talking about his travels, and in a moment I’ll never forget, he put his hamburger down and he asked, “Bwuddah, do you think I will ever drive that car?”

I had to tell him the truth, so I said yes.

Now, he won’t drive a car, not my car, I can tell you that. But that’s not really what he’s asking. He’s asking do you believe there will ever be a day when all that has gone wrong will be made right? Do you believe there will ever be a day when all that is broken in us and in the world will be mended? Will there ever be a day when we are no longer defined by the failures of our past but by the promise of God’s future? And I said yes.

I believe that God has promised the day will come when justice rolls down like waters because we decide fairness is the preferred option. God has promised that the day will come when swords will be beaten into plowshares because it will finally make more sense to us to feed one another than to kill one another. God has promised that all that has gone wrong will be made right.

So, when he asked, I said yes, because I believe God will be faithful, and the day will come when the harvest will be thirty, sixty, one hundred.

Someday, but not today.

And most days that promised day seems so far away.

I think Matthew understands that. He teaches that sowing love requires a resilience, because sometimes — maybe often — we fail. It’s enough to discourage most — unless we pay attention to the modest victories, the small gains, the glimpses of grace that break through, for there we will see the fingerprints of God and, rather than being discouraged, we will discover resilience. Matthew knows that ministry is seldom thirty, sixty, one hundred. More often one hundred, sixty, thirty, ten, five.

Matthew tells us, “Even when times are hard, trust the seed, sow love everywhere, anywhere, because you never know where the good soil might be.”

This is our challenge: We know Jesus is Lord, but like him, we still live in Herod’s world. The climate has changed, and her wrath is witnessed in every news cycle. The gap is expanding between those who can’t get a little and those who can’t help but get more. Gun violence is as American as apple pie, and school children and concertgoers and parade participants are paying with their lives for our second amendment freedom. And it is an election year, with many people without evidence still denying the legitimacy of the last election. It’s enough to discourage us.

I think Matthew could relate.

He knows that the only power we have is love and that love is a tender power, and a vulnerable strength, and its victories are often modest.

But Matthew has seen that even the small victories bear the fingerprints of God, and he pleads with us to keep sowing love, anywhere, everywhere. Engage in this extravagant practice of Gospel agriculture, for you never know where the good soil may be found.

Matthew couldn’t have known you, Fourth Church, but I think he had to know someone like you. I have only been with you for a few months, but I think this parable describes you. Matthew lifts up these words of Jesus to say don’t lose heart. In every circumstance, trust the gospel. It will not always bear the fruit that you desire, but sow love everywhere.

That requires a resilience, and I see that resilience in you. I don’t know how many years you have been opening Anderson Hall to serve meals and Sunday night suppers. But one thing for sure, the need has not decreased. It has grown. And the relentless crush of poverty might discourage some, but you keep showing up to offer food and kindness.

I don’t know how often you have walked with our friends from St. Sabina, but violence in our city remains a daily occurrence. And many who actually have the power to help have thrown up their hands, but you keep showing up to insist on a more peace-filled day.

I don’t know how long you have labored to open these doors to all of God’s children regardless of race or orientation or gender identity, but I know those victories have yet to be won and frighteningly many are still longing for a prior more-oppressive day.

And it can be enough to discourage some. But not you. You are resilient. So, keep sowing that seed Fourth Church. You never know when we will find the good soil, but we have before, and we will again. I don’t know if the harvest will be one hundred or sixty or thirty, but I know God is faithful, and the fingerprints of God are all around us.