Center for Biblical Theology and Eschatology

The Parable of the Seed

by Stuart D. Robertson

Text: Isaiah 28:23-29; Mark 4:1-20
Preached: April 18, 1999
Pastor: Stuart D. Robertson
Where: Faith Presbyterian Church, West Lafayette, Indiana

The first truth we learn from the Bible is that before God made us people, He created the heavens and the earth. The heavens are exceedingly vast. The earth teems with plant and animal life on land, sea, and in the air.

Why are we told this? Perhaps it is to address the questions people ask "who made all this?" and "how did all this get here?" The answer also comes back, "There’s much beside you. You were the very last to be created."

I wonder if part of the implied guidance here is that we should learn of God’s designs for us by looking beyond ourselves. We are part of a vast design. Scientists do well to study creation, but maybe they need to ask some questions they’re not asking yet. Each kind of science may stick too much to itself. Cosmology, the science of "why," is too unconnected still.

Alexander Pope, a poet deemed by many to be wise, suggested the futility of anything else than this unconnectedness. "The Dying Christian to his Soul" says,

See mystery to Mathematics fly!

In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave and die.

Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,

And unawares Morality expires. . .

Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor’d. . .

And universal darkness buries all.

So he tells us in another oft-quoted poem, "The proper study of mankind is man." And when he looks beyond to see our connection to other things all he sees is that each of us is

Fix’d like a plant on his peculiar spot,

To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot.

There may be moments all of us have this dreary outlook, but this is not wisdom. Just the opposite is true. The Bible that tells us the Creator of this all says to you and me: "You are like a plant, so study the ways of plants." Your purpose is not, in the end, to rot--but, like the plant, to bear fruit.

Isaiah the prophet told a nation of family farmers, "Look at how you plant and how you harvest. Does this remind you of anything else? The Lord who gives you wisdom to plant and harvest is counseling you on other matters each time you plant seed."

Isaiah ends this brief word: "Give ear, and hear my voice. . . This comes from the Lord of hosts, wonderful in counsel, excellent in wisdom." The same outlook was in Jesus’ mind when He told the parable before us today.

I’m struck by the contrast between the preparation for Jesus made by John the Baptist and the way of Jesus when He came. John the Baptist breathed fire to those who went to the great inconvenience of coming out to the desert to hear him. "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord.’" But his message was often stark: "You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" People must have expected Jesus to demonstrate this wrath as some of us preachers do.

But when Jesus began to teach, how different from John He sounded. He sat in a boat in the shallows of the Sea of Galilee. People crowded around to hear Him. In the inner circle next to the water sat His disciples, and round them in deep ranks sat crowds of women, children, and men--straining to hear.

Jesus began, "A sower went out to sow. . ." A farmer went out to plant.

My training in Reformed theology taught me that before people can understand the grace of God they must know well of their need for grace. Preach first about the dreadful fact of sin, then people will hunger for grace. But Jesus began, "A sower went out to sow." Why?

Did Jesus first tell this story because it contained the outline of the rest of what He would teach in His public ministry?

I remember my first sermon here--on the call of Isaiah. I wanted to make clear that our worship at Faith Church has as its purpose making us useful to God.

So I chose that familiar passage of the call of Isaiah. Isaiah saw God in the Temple. But he didn’t bask long in this awesome experience. He responded as a reflex, "Here am I, send me." He had a compelling purpose. "The Lord God, the Creator of the ends of the earth wants to use me." "Here am I, send me." I wanted Faith Church to catch that idea clearly--and to send back to its new pastor continual reminders of this purpose.

I wonder if Jesus was setting the stage for His disciples’ usefulness, welcoming the crowd to eavesdrop as He explained the basic ways of God, "A sower went out to sow. A farmer went out to plant."

I think everyone thinks this parable is easy to understand--maybe the easiest of them all. We call parables "earthly stories with heavenly meaning," as though they are illustrations a good teacher tells in class. Illustrations are the "pictures worth a thousand words." This is one picture easily worth a thousand words.

But that’s not what Jesus told His disciples. After they asked Him what this story meant, He said, "To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables; so that they may indeed see but not perceive, and may hear but not understand, lest they should turn again and be forgiven."

I suspect that everyone way back when, who heard Jesus tell this parable thought he both saw and perceived, heard and understood. They’d seen for years that seed falls on different kinds of surfaces with very different results, just as Jesus described. It’s only the seed that falls on good ground that results in a good harvest. It’s very easy to understand that.

When the disciples asked Jesus, "What do these parables mean?" maybe it’s a clue to their wisdom rather than to their stupidity. "It’s too obvious. There’s more to this. What are You really saying, Jesus?"

Jesus wasn’t just saying that people respond differently to the Gospel. Everyone would get that idea. Even people like the hard way-side ground where the seed is eaten by the birds--know that they are not interested. They would say, "Yup, that’s me. I heard and couldn’t care less."

And nearly everyone who has responded quickly and favorably to the Gospel, but didn’t stick with it, would admit, "Jesus is talking about me in describing the rocky ground. I didn’t last very long, did I?"

Such folk start a "devotional habit," reading their Bibles, and praying--buying religious books, tapes, T-shirts and bumper stickers--all the paraphernalia of Christendom. They got involved in the church. They speak to their fellow workers, who whisper to each other, "Jane’s got religion."

But then life goes on, and pretty soon they find that a few Sundays go by and it is easier and easier to miss worship. They discovered the preacher who once seemed so interesting is putting them to sleep. They begin to find a few hypocrites in the church. Even their Bible starts to seem boring.

The seed that falls among the weeds may be most illustrative for the Church. It grows and stays alive, but does not bear fruit. Bearing fruit is the usefulness, not just sticking around. Even sticking around with good Reformed Theology is not what Jesus had in mind. It’s bearing fruit!

When we come to the seed that falls on good ground, we think we know what Jesus was getting at. It’s folk who stick it out in the Church. Really? I wonder if we misinterpret here.

Jesus is talking about "mature" Christians. What is a "mature Christian," anyway? One who bears fruit.

In the practice of the Christian faith since the Reformation, not a little emphasis has been placed by Protestants on knowing that we have eternal life. Question 21 of the Heidelberg Catechism reminds us that true faith assures us that we personally have eternal life. Is maturity a state of intense personal certainty?

Jesus taught that the big issue for the seed falling on good ground was "bearing fruit." Every farmer who heard Jesus teach this agreed. Everyone of us who plants a garden agrees. Jesus taught, "I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears fruit."

Branches that do not bear fruit are cut off, even if they are still connected to the vine. If they bear bright green leaves, but bear no fruit, they get cut off.

When you ask the question, "Do I have eternal life?" isn’t it a little like asking the question, "Am I a branch connected to the vine?" When John wrote the purpose of the Gospel, "that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God," he went on to say, that believing you may have life in his name." What is this life? Is it merely a matter of knowing, believing something about yourself? Staying attached to the vine or of bearing fruit? I wonder if we stress believing, but not bearing fruit, if we are those who see but don’t perceive, hear, but don’t understand. I wonder if we’re seed planted in the weed-infested ground.

Jesus said, "Every branch of mine that bears no fruit, [My Father] takes away, and every branch that bears fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit." What is the fruit?

Church growth is a hot topic today, but how much fruit hangs on this multiplicity of branches, even very big branches?

Evangelism is a massive enterprise in the Church today. What are we looking for when we do evangelism? Belief? Saying, "Jesus is Lord?"

Didn’t Jesus say something about not everyone who says to me "Lord, Lord" will enter the Kingdom of Heaven? Evangelism is MORE than saying "Jesus is Lord." Evangelism is conversion, being saved is like a branch attached to the vine. What are people being converted to when they are converted to Christianity? Conversion means change; it’s something we do. Salvation is something God gives that involves forgiveness of sin, the start of something new. Conversion and salvation are inseparable, but not, perhaps in our thinking.

In thinking of salvation perhaps all you had in mind was attachment to the vine. Conversion is tough. If you convert from a sedentary life to a life of exercise and fitness, your body aches a lot. If you convert from drugs to no-drugs, you endure withdrawal pains. If you convert from "in myself" to "in Christ" you will suffer. Every instinct will scream as you govern it. Perhaps this is why we underplay conversion, and stress salvation. But isn’t this odd?!! In Christ without Conversion.

We live in an "in your face" generation. How very much Christian witness today is "in your face." From T-shirts to TV spots to demonstrations. From public statements about "our position" on this or that. We can buy Christian publicity for any position under the sun, opposing evils we deplore, arguing for the right to pray in public schools and to portray Manger scenes in public places at Christmas. I wonder how this public witness helps to bring about the fruit Jesus had in mind. It attempts changes in the social order based on Christian principles we suppose, but is this what Jesus intended?

I hear the gentle echo of Jesus’ voice in the background behind all the busyness, "The kingdom of heaven is within you." His voice is never piercing. Jesus calls softly and tenderly, as the old Gospel song puts it so well. "The Kingdom of heaven is within you." Within you? You mean, not out there? No, not out there yet. It is, within you if it’s there at all.

You’re like ground in which the Kingdom seed is planted. It’s purpose is to grow and bear fruit in you. Your call is not to occupy space in the garden--but to bear fruit.

What is this fruit? It has a lot to do with what Jesus called "abiding in me and I in you." It has to do with the presence of the Christ within me and you so that we become, however slowly, more and more like Jesus. He was the Author and finisher of our Faith. He did what He did on the cross and in the resurrection, so that you and I might "become partakers of the Divine nature." The Divine nature in you, Nancy, and Bob, and Sally, and Earnest.

Think of all the red herrings distracting us from this! Think of the ways it’s become fashionable for Christians to exhibit themselves in our world advertising themselves as saved, but still evidently not converted. I wonder what exhibit there is of the "Divine nature," the nature of Jesus who "authored" this Faith we adhere to so ardently.

Discovering in each of us this Divine nature is the fruit Jesus intended. It is the harvest that comes from planting well the seed of God’s word. There may be found on us branches the ornament of right theology--without fruit. There may be found on us branches the ornament of thoughtful worship--without fruit. There may be found on us branches the ornament of certainty--without fruit. We should think as truly as we can about the ultimate things. We should strive for right theology, and for worship that is in spirit and in truth.

But it is fruit that Jesus wants. And so do we, particularly in others. Don’t we say, "walk the walk or don’t talk the talk?" So does the world.

Ken Bailey, who lived many years among the small farmers in the Middle East, read this parable of Jesus and recognized the Middle Eastern farmers would have thought about Jesus’ parable of the seed, realizing it grows slowly and with difficulty. Seed isn’t expected to erupt in an instant harvest

We who live in the West are accustomed to fertilizers and herbicides being sold with seed in the Spring, so that farmers can grow their crops with fewer weeds, less labor, more quickly, bigger, with bumper crops. No agri-business can sell perfect weather, but other variables in the planting and harvesting process can be bought.

Without thinking this is what we’re up to, do we not look for quick harvests in matters of faith too. Some harvests can come quickly, with good publicity and strategies. But the harvests that show themselves quickly are not the fruit Jesus had in mind.

If churches pop up like mushrooms filled with people who linger with unforgiveness in their hearts, is there fruit on those new branches? If a thousand people stand and praise the Lord on the Lord’s Day morning, but do not love their neighbors as themselves, where is the fruit?

The ones who heard Jesus’ parable expected harvests that came gradually after much difficulty. So will any harvest, any fruit we will bear. Let me mention three kinds of fruit that must grow in us if we have received the seed Jesus planted. If this is there the seed is rooted; if not, I wonder. God sees the heart; I can’t.

Humility will grow gradually. It may not seem to be present, because it’s not natural. It will begin after many falls from pride. Humility quietly exuded from every pore of Jesus. If we have the mind of Christ, it will affect our pores too. Humility will affect how we think when we’re alone. It will appear quietly in our dealings with each other. It will appear in our interaction with people at work. It will be a sub-theme in our life with our neighbors. It will appear at the check-out counter in the grocery store.

It will take over in a way altogether different from the assertiveness we think is needed in this life, until Jesus’ words, "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth" makes sense. We will come to appreciate what Isaiah wrote of Jesus, "He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench: he will faithfully bring forth justice" (42: 2-3). We will not want to stop at admiring this in Jesus.

Looking closely at the Author of our faith, we’ll see that Jesus was not merely humble; before that He emptied Himself. Philippians mentions this first. But it seems in people it may follow humility. The welcome I have given to Jesus to "abide in me," compels me to apply to myself what Jesus did in Himself. He emptied Himself. Emptied Himself of what? All we know for certain is that He emptied Himself of his prerogatives as God. Maybe our emptying ourselves will prompt us to reassess our sense of what we think are our prerogatives, our rights.

We have a rather long list of our rights. How precious they are to us! If we take the approach to heaven’s ways on earth that Jesus demonstrated, we’ll find a new outlook on our rights. Our list of personal rights grows shorter. The list will dwindle and dwindle until it can be said of us, "They seek not their own rights, but the rights of others."

And then I think of another fruit that begins to grow: forgiveness. Genuine, heart-aching forgiveness. The presence of Christ in me presses me toward forgiveness. The Lord’s Prayer breaks my heart to pray because I am starting to realize the cost of forgiving you your debts-- as I claim God’s forgiveness of my debts.

Am I wrong to suspect that the fruit, the harvest God is looking for will look like this or begin to. Humility, the opposite of attack. Self-emptying, less and less thinking of my rights. Forgiveness, the costly work of grace in me toward you.

Supposing this fruit started growing silently in your home. It shows itself gradually as you are to your wife, toward your husband, toward your neighbor. Supposing your claim on your personal rights is less and less conspicuous. Supposing your children were so convinced of your forgiveness rather than of the certainty of your discipline.

Something is going on in these who say they believe in Jesus, who thankfully claim the forgiveness of their sin. There’s something overwhelmingly good that I’ve begun to dissociate from any creed, but I discover is altogether at one with what they say they believe.

Supposing our little flock here, a humble conglomerate of diverse folk out on the edge of a corn field in central Indiana, not only believed fervently the Gospel, but began gradually to display humility, self-emptying, and forgiveness beyond what is convenient, or in keeping with our personality types.

How delighted we are to see profound humility in great achievers. How refreshed we are to encounter people full, not of themselves, but of love for us. How happy we are to find forgiveness rising up like a cooling mist when we’re used to the hot reflex of revenge. When humility, self-emptying, and forgiveness appear, we find the evidence that the seed of God’s word has been planted in good ground and is bearing fruit.

It is true that in Christ we are forgiven of our sin. And this is the first part of the Gospel. But the second part is that we have been forgiven in order to bear fruit. We do well to remember that in Christ we are forgiven of our sins. But to cling only to that is a very selfish faith. Jesus sees us as good ground in which good seed has been planted, whose purpose is to bear fruit. This is the word of God. It is the good seed God offers you and me. Let us bear fruit.

Lord God, grant that we may be good ground, receiving Your good seed, that you may delight in its growth and harvest. Amen.

Stuart D. Robertson

Faith Presbyterian Church

West Lafayette, Indiana

Stuart D. Robertson was born of missionary parents in India. He earned the M.Div. from Princeton Theological Seminary, and the Ph.D. from the Annenberg Research Institute, formerly known as the Dropsie College of Hebrew and Cognate Learning in Philadelphia. He was a Presbyterian pastor for thirty-five years, the last twenty-one at Faith Presbyterian Church, West Lafayette, Indiana. He is a Lecturer in biblical Hebrew in Purdue University's Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures.