A Flower in the Wilderness
Purple Flower, Blackberry Farm, photo by the author.
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 53.
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.” –Mark 4:26-27
Preaching through the Bible poses challenges different than lectionary-based preaching. In the gospels especially, this preacher thinks more about what is similar and what is different in each version. How will I avoid too much repetition of Jesus’ stories told from slightly different angles? What is unique to each gospel author?
In an overview of Mark’s gospel, there is only one short section that has no parallel whatsoever in the other gospels.[1] It is contained in the first part of today’s second scripture reading, Mark 4:26-29. Some have called it the Parable of the Growing Seed. Others focus on the person scattering the seed, and have called it the Parable of the Patient Farmer. Labeling the character a patient “farmer” is a stretch, since there is no mention of plowing or cultivating of any kind, and he seems surprised that a plant has grown at all.[2] This little leads directly into the Parable of the Mustard Seed, and comes not so long after the Parable of the Sower.
As I studied the text, I thought how in this earliest gospel to be written, three of the first four parables ever recorded are about planting seeds. I thought how Jesus chose to define and describe his new kingdom in terms of the mysterious processes of biological growth, and human interaction with it. Then I thought about Blackberry Hill.
Eight days ago, some of us spent the morning at Blackberry Hill, the name given by Jay and Jane Griffin to their property north of town. There are chickens and eggs, bees and honey, grapes, apples, and – of course – blackberries. Jane (maybe with some help from daughter Elise) created a scavenger hunt. We all were given a little booklet full of helpful information, and sent out to discover and identity plant life.
Now, if you imagine a “farm” laid out in rectangular parcels and crops planted in regular rows, then you wouldn’t have quite the right impression. Jay has mowed wide winding paths that merge and intersect in interesting ways. The paths rise and dip across the topography, with a new vista opening up over every new crest.
My favorite discovery, among a broad swath of many plants crowded together, was something about three feet tall with purple flowers forming a kind of star pattern. I used the plant-identification app that Jane recommended with inconclusive results. Perhaps it is a wonderful native Illinois wildflower. Perhaps it is a harmful invasive species. Maybe it’s just wild onion.
I lay my experience at the Griffin property alongside Jesus’ teaching in today’s text, because they both contain a mystery surrounding a plant. The plant springs up seemingly from nowhere. Where did the seed come from, and what is the plant’s true identity? What is this growing plant’s purpose and fate? Will the plant harm or help the landscape and people with which it interacts?
In the second half of our text, Mark 4:30-34, Jesus connects what he’s said previously with what, to our ears, is the more familiar “Parable of the Mustard Seed.” Some commentators say Jesus’ description of the mustard plant draws inspiration from Ezekiel’s words of our first scripture reading, Ezekiel 17:22-24. Ezekiel’s image of Israel growing into a mighty “noble cedar” was one that had inspired God’s people living in Babylonian exile. It inspired them again during Roman occupation. Israel would become a majestic tree on a lofty mountain, in which the defenseless would find protection for their young, and under which the weary would find rest.
In drawing a similar lesson from the common mustard plant, some commentators say Jesus’ audience may have thought his words sounded subversive,[3] perhaps even comical.[4] The mustard plant wasn’t cultivated, but rather sprang up to cover fallow fields. So maybe it was something like saying, “The kingdom of God is like a seed that is sown and becomes the greatest of all … weeds.” The kingdom of God is like a seemingly insignificant group of God Followers. Unnoticed at first, the words and actions of the God Followers take root. Their faith, hope, and love grow more and more, becoming like an obnoxious weed to those who prefer a society just the way it is.
In the spirit of this interpretation, perhaps we could say that the kingdom of God is like a couple van loads of young people on a mission trip, little dots on the interstate highway, traveling to a pocket of hurt and heartache. They work among a group of people facing environmental injustice that people in more privileged places don’t have to think about. They’re like little purple flowers calling out for attention in a meadow full of other plants. They may look like weeds to some people. But to people of faith, interested in encouraging others to move toward higher moral ground, interested in transforming the world in positive ways, these mission trippers are beautiful wildflowers.
There are many good and important reasons to be engaged in mission work. One reason is to gain greater appreciation for the needs and hopes represented in different places, people, and perspectives. But it goes deeper than that in a way that I’m not sure I can well express. When you’re on a mission trip, you will see at least some people that you would not choose to be with in any other setting. You may be serving alongside them, or you may be serving them directly. Because worship, prayer, and service are at the heart of the experience, you are reminded to look at these folks with new eyes. They’re not just members of a church from a town you’ve never visited, they are also brothers and sisters with whom we all share a common faith and purpose. They’re not just residents of some far-away community with unfamiliar struggles, they are also people created and loved by God, just as you are.
My former preaching professor Tom Long once shared a snapshot from the life of Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk who spent much of his life at a monastery in Kentucky. One day, in downtown Louisville, his sense of deep connection with all of God’s children was embodied in a mystical experience. He described it this way: “In Louisville, on the corner of Fourth and Walnut in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I was theirs, that we could not be alien to one another, even though we were total strangers. I have the immense joy of being human, a member of the race in which God himself became incarnate …. I realize who we really are. If only everyone could understand this!”[5]
Another person who understands his deep connections to God and neighbor is Grant Myerholz, whose story was featured this week in the Washington Post.[6] He comes from a corner of Georgia known for its fiery Fundamentalism. He is a native son, who understands what it’s like to live in communities where churches seem to energize themselves with protests against their perceived enemies.
In 2011, Grant was serving in the National Guard, when a training exercise left him severely injured. “While recovering, he picked up a book called ‘The Ragamuffin Gospel’ by a former Franciscan priest named Brennan Manning. Myerholz decided to build the rest of his life around its simple premise from the Gospel: unconditional grace.”
Today, Grant Myerholz is pastor of a little Baptist church in Hartwell, Georgia. The sign out front says, “The tired. The poor. The huddled masses. Welcome home.” New members recall the little things that told them they would find comfort rather than judgment, like the invitation, “Come as you are, not as you should be.” Myerholz says, “In God’s kingdom, it doesn’t matter what color we are. It doesn’t matter what party we are. What does matter in God’s economy is how we treat one another ….”
That’s the way it is with the God of the Bible, who is always more than we are, and whose dreams and purposes are broader and more inclusive than ours. Whether on a mission trip, or just living an ordinary day, may we never be so intent on a perfect harmony of religious and political doctrine, so opposed to alternative perspectives and creative disagreement, that we close ourselves to the possibility of God blessing us with a new and mysteriously beautiful flower in the wilderness. “For 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.” This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.
NOTES
[1] Eduard Schweizer, The Good News According to Mark, trans. Donald H. Madvig, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1970, p. 101.
[2] Schweizer, p. 103.
[3] David Lose, “Mission Possible,” www.workingpreacher.org, 10 June 2012.
[4] Nadia Bolz-Weber, “Living By The Word,” The Christian Century, 13 June 2012, p. 20.
[5] Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, as recorded by Thomas Long in Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian, p. 46.
[6] Allison Miller, “A small-town Georgia preacher fills pews by leaving no one out,” The Washington Post, 9 July 2023, https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2023/07/09/georgia-pastor-myerholtz-mount-hebron/
