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Wednesday, May 20

Today’s Readings: Psalm 1; Ezekiel 1:1-14; Matthew 13:18-23; Ephesians 1:1-10; Psalm 136

If you’re anything like me, it’s probably easy to hear some of the teachings of Jesus and overlay them with hugely moralistic tones that can sometimes be off putting for progressive folks. It’s understandable if you do that, because that’s the way many of the stories and parables are taught. Take today’s passage from Matthew, for example. There are many who would heart Jesus story about the spreading of the seed and assume that the four scenarios he spells out are simply judgments about the person who receives “the seed” (i.e. the seed that stays on the surface, the seed in the gravel, and the seed in the weeds = bad people; the seed on good earth = good people). I think there is a little more depth to Jesus’ story than that. Take the notion of the seed that stays on the surface. There are probably many things that play into the seeds inability to penetrate below the surface: a lack of tilling to break up the soil’s hardened crust, a lack of moisture to soften the soil, a lack of fertilizer to feed the soil, you name it. Same thing goes with the condition of the good soil. There are a lot of things that went into creating conditions for that good soil: tilling to break up the hardened crust, moisture to soften the soil, fertilizer to feed it, etc. In other words, it’s more complicated that just making judgments about the condition of the soil; the story invites us to look at the contributing factors that helped create such an environment. Today – instead of asking the obvious question “What kind of patch are you?” – I would invite you to explore the less obvious question: “Have I sought out spiritual practices/disciplines (i.e. prayer/devotional time/spiritual fellowship/worship,etc) that would turn the parts of me that are superficial/gravelly/weedy patches into productive patches soil?” If not, today would be a great day to begin working your patch of soil. Til next time…

1 comment:

Dutch said...

Breath of life whispering my name;
Fire on the mountain quicking my step
I remember.

I remember.
Breathing in my adoption before the foundation of the earth.
Breathing out our adoption of Annie, Priscilla Anne, ancient grace.
I remember.

But the memories are without creation;
the memories are without quickening.

I remember
The breathlessness of fear,
The cold fire of shame,
The loveless weight of grudges.
I remember.

May I fear not and breathe in again.
May fire again quicken my step.
May I breathe out the lightness of love again.
I will remember.