Sowing Seeds
Zephyr United Methodist Church
Early First United Methodist Church
June 18, 2006
Rev. Eddie Smart
Mark 4:26-29; 1 Corinthians 3:5-9
Mk 4:26 The Parable of the Growing Seed
He also said, "The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27 and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. 28 The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come."
1Co 3:5 What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe, as the Lord assigned to each. 6 I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. 7 So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. 8 The one who plants and the one who waters have a common purpose, and each will receive wages according to the labor of each. 9 For we are God's servants, working together; you are God's field, God's building.
It was our first appointment. We were living in the parsonage across the street from the Wesley Memorial Church in Cleburne. One night Diana and I were at the church, and when we returned home that was a message on our answering machine. Now you need to know that it was about February or March. We were in our third year in the appointment and the cabinet was meeting in the appointment process.
The message was from my new District Superintendent. I had known Eric for six years although it was his first year as my D. S. The message went something like this. “Eddie, please call me as soon as you get this message. You can reach me at my home phone number, or you can page me, or I might be at this number. Please call as soon as you can.
Diana and I stood there staring at the answering machine and then looking at each other. We certainly didn’t expect to be moving, but it was a possibility. In those years the cabinet didn’t promise more than three years. We weren’t ready to move.
Well, I picked up the phone and I got Eric on the first try. He said, “Eddie, I’m so glad you called me. I need your help. Suzanne is going on a Chrysalis weekend in Glen Rose. I have a conflict. I can get her as far as Cleburne, but I wondered if you and Diana could take her on to Glen Rose.”
At that point I was filled with mixed emotions. At one extreme, I wanted to choke him for scaring us so. On the other, I was relieved to know he wanted a favor not a move.
Suzanne was his step-daughter. Eric had married a woman who had been a member of the New World church with Diana and I. We had known Suzanne much longer than we had known Eric. “Of course we will be glad to take her from Cleburne to Glen Rose.”
When Suzanne Hooper as in Junior High School, Diana was leading a share group composed of Junior High girls. They met once a week at our house. At this point in time Suzanne was attending Southwestern University in Georgetown. She shared with us how she had on her dorm wall one of the things that Diana had given her when she was in that Junior High share group.
Mk 4:26 The Parable of the Growing Seed
He also said, "The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27 and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. 28
James Boswell was Scottish lawyer and essayist, best known for his two-volume biography THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D (1791). James often referred to a special day in his childhood when his father, a lawyer and judge, took him fishing. The day was fixed in his mind, and he often reflected upon many things his father had taught him in the course of their fishing experience together.
After having heard of that particular excursion so often, it occurred to someone much later to check the journal of Alexander Boswell kept and determine what the father had said about that fishing trip. Turning to that date, the reader found only one sentence entered:
"Gone fishing today with my son; a day wasted."
He also said, "The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27 and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.
He was in the third grade class Helen taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of her students were dear to her, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, he had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.
Mark also talked incessantly. Helen tried to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed her so much, though, was the sincere response every time she had to correct him for misbehaving. "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" Helen didn't know what to make of it at first but before long she became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.
One morning her patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often. She made a novice-teacher's mistake. She looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again," Helen hadn't asked any of the students to help her watch Mark, but since she had stated the punishment in front of the class, she had to act on it.
Helen remembers the scene as if it had occurred this morning. She walked to her desk, very deliberately opened the drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, she proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. She then returned to the front of the room.
As Helen glanced a Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at her. That did it! Helen started laughing. The entire class cheered as she walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged her shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year Helen was asked to teach junior high math. The years flew by, and before she knew it Mark was in her classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to her instruction in the "new Math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade.
One Friday things just didn't feel right. They had worked hard on a new concept all week, and Helen sensed that the students were growing frustrated with themselves -- and edgy with one another. She had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So she asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, but as the students left the room, each one handed her their paper. Chuck smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."
That Saturday, Helen wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and she listed what everyone else had said about the individual. On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Some of them ran two pages. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispers. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. Helen never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after Helen had returned from a vacation, her parents met her at the airport. As they were driving home, her Mother asked the usual questions about the trip; How the weather was, her experiences in general. There was a slight lull in the conversation. Her Mother gave her Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" Helen's father cleared his throat. "The Eklunds called last night," he began.
"Really?" Helen said. "I haven't heard from them for several years. I wonder how Mark is."
Her Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day Helen can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where her Dad told her about Mark.
Helen had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All she could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you could talk to me.
The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
Helen was the last one to bless the coffin. As she stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as a pallbearer came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. Helen nodded as she continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for Helen. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. Helen knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."
Mark's classmates started to gather around them. Chuck smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." John's wife said, "John asked me to put his in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all time," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."
That's when Helen finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark
and for all his friends who would never see him again.
"The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27 and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.
We all sow seeds.
On this Father’s day, fathers need to know that regardless of the kind of father we are, we plant seeds. As we parent our children we plant seeds. As we teach one another we plant seeds. In our relationships, in the way we treat each other we plant seeds. During sacred moments such as worship seeds are planted–even in you and me.
The good news is we are called to only plant the seeds. As Paul said to the church in Corinth, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. 7 So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”