NEW EYES
During breakfast this morning, I recalled God’s intention to reconcile me to Christ this year. I considered picking up a Bible for the first time in a very long time and ultimately decided to do so. I asked the program director for a Bible, and she graciously provided a Gideon NT version. It left the strangest impression, like she’d handed me a roadmap that would somehow, inexplicably, lead me back to ministry. I still don't have a place for Jesus in my theology, but this conviction is so strong I’m confident all my reservations will be resolved.
I opened it up with the intention of reading whatever chapter happened to present itself. It opened to Luke, chapter 8. The significance of this was not apparent until I read the following words: "to whoever has, more will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he thinks he has will be taken from him." The irony was not lost on me, happening upon a version of the passage that derailed my journey for a season in 2009. I’d been caught up in a frenzy of multiplying my talents and had been gravely deceived, and a certain resentment arose in my heart upon reading this. I distinctly heard God speak:
Stop. The last fourteen years haven’t happened for nothing. Do not read as you did before, in the time before the awakening. For all your study in those days, you accumulated knowledge, but not wisdom. What is written is written, not a jot of it in error, yet what is written is not understood. It need only be fully realized to be fulfilled. Look upon it in a new light. Read with new eyes.
So I read the passage again, noting the following words: "Hold the word fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience." Reading these words unlocked something in my heart and reminded me that God works for the good of those who love him. What is that work? What is that good? What does it mean to marry God’s work toward that good with patience? It finally occurred to me, the giving and taking aren’t judgments, but an expression of God’s faithfulness. The work of bearing fruit involves promoting growth and pruning as needed, and the giving and taking mirror the same necessary cultivation. I can have confidence in God’s discipline, for it isn’t condemnation, but guidance.
As for the Parable of the Sower, the driving force of the parable is the farmer. The seed he scatters yields a crop in keeping with the ground’s productive capacity, a capacity that ultimately depends on the farmer himself. The uncultivated ground, be it the path, the rocks, or the thorns go about doing what such ground does and are utterly incapable of doing anything but what is in their nature. If they are to ever produce a crop, they must wait patiently upon the farmer.
Were the farmer to turn his attention their way, to envision what they might become, he might take it upon himself to till the path, unearth the rocks, pull the thorns, and cultivate what remains. This upheaval would be a sort of death – the death of a path, or a gravel pit, or a thicket – but one that leads to new life. And just like the talents, the farmer removes impediments and adds nutrients to promote fertility. The soil waits patiently as this takes place, doing what soil does, slowly observing the changes brought about by the farmer’s careful work. Until one day, it finds itself ready to yield forth a good crop, going about doing what good soil does.
The seed that is sown grows and grows, and the man knows not how, for he does not understand or control its growth. Surely I can find the faith within me to trust that, like the seed, I will grow up healthy in time, when the season is right, and do so apart from my understanding or control. My Father is faithful, endlessly loving, and pursues me even when I run.