Resurrection Lutheran Church, St Catharines

“A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell along the path... And some fell on the rock... And some fell among thorns... And some fell into good soil” (Luke 8:5-8). But what about the valleys? What if you weren’t anywhere near the field? You know, sometimes you find yourself off the beaten path, out in the wilds, or in the back alleys of the city.

 

The parable of the sower shows that he scatters his seed liberally. Of course, he is sowing it in the field. He wants it to grow and produce. But he scatters it in such a way that it reaches the thorny edge of the field, the rocky ditch and even the beaten path on the far side of the ditch. “The sower sows his reckless love Scatters abroad the goodly seed, Intent alone that all may have The wholesome loaves that all men need” (Preach You the Word, LSB 586:3).

 

But is the sower’s reckless love abundant enough to get to where you are at? Sowing the seed of the Word of God in the field of the church, it spills out into our surrounding community. Some of it falls upon the hard concrete paths of this university and is quickly snatched away by the devil who hops about like a cute little bird, but in reality is ferociously removing every kernel of God’s Truth from public debate so that our young people cannot believe and be saved.

 

Some of the seed falls on the rocky ground of those in our community who are going through challenges in life. They cannot find employment, or an affordable place to live, or they need help to pay for their groceries. Some of them are struggling with illness or grieving the death of a loved one. It is in these times of testing that they fall away.

 

Some of the seed falls among thorns, in the neighbourhood at the bottom of the Glenridge hill. There is some good ground down there, but the houses are huge and the double car garages, swimming pools and tennis courts squeeze out the succulent saplings. They are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life. It all takes a lot of effort to maintain and manage, and their fruit does not mature.

 

Some of the seed falls in good soil, like the little patch right here at the top of the Escarpment, between the thorns of the neighbourhood below and the hard rock of the campus across the way. This little plot of earth is fertile and rich. It is a nestled haven from the fowl devil. It is a soft loam adjacent to the impenetrable rock. It’s hoed rows set it safely apart from the choking thorns that grow so close nearby.

 

Here the sower sows His seed in rich grace and it yields far more than you can ever perceive. It germinates deep within the garden of the LORD. It roots in the riches of God’s good gifts. It sprouts and thrives and produces, because this is the place where you hear the Word of God and “hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience” (Luke 8:15).

 

It is in this place that the sower sows with reckless love and scatters abroad the goodly seed. And it does overflow onto the hard path and rocky ground and thorny patches around us. The opposition that the university has put up against our seminary and our chaplain is clear evidence of the devil trying to snatch the seed away. But the university students who have found a safe haven in our church and in this chapel throughout the years show that the birds cannot snatch all the seed away.

 

Likewise, the homeless in need of compassion and food and socks, and the poor in need of gas for the car, and a bus ticket, and help with the hydro bill have also been showered with the seed of God’s Word blown about from this very field. The sick in the hospitals from Shaver across the street to Douglas Memorial in Fort Erie; even St. Catharines General and ‘Hotel Dieu which are now long torn down, have been places where the seed is spoken and sung, directly to patients and overheard by roommates and staff as people navigated their rocky road of suffering.

 

Even the daily visible presence at the entrance to a neighbourhood and campus that are choked with the pressures of prosperity and achievement, is evidence of the far-reaching arc of the sower’s cast. Decidedly there was a Bible verse on the electronic sign of our old church building rather than a corny joke for people to contemplate as they went up the hill; and now the glimpses of the cross and coloured glass of the catechism window on their regular commute are like seeds carried on the wind.

 

It is tragic that the sower, the LORD who is so generous with His grace (even the small portion that is scattered around this particular lot), is not wholly and completely embraced and absorbed by one and all in our community. It may at times feel defeating and pointless to a small gathering of the LORD’s people such as ourselves, but the forgiveness, strength, patience, endurance, steadfast courage, along with the new life and opportunity it affords makes this little patch a fruitful vineyard of the LORD.

 

“How lovely is Your dwelling place, O LORD of hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God” (Psalm 84:1-2). It is the place where the soil is fertile, a mighty fortress against the devils all eager to devour us; a soft place to lie down in green pastures instead of falling hard upon the rocks; a place set apart from the thorny predicaments of prosperity.

 

This is where the grace and mercy of God, manifested in the gift of Jesus Christ, the eternal Son sacrificed upon the cross for the sins of the world, is sown into your heart. This is where the good news of new life in Christ picks the thorns out of your skin. It is where the bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes of a rocky life are healed with the love of God in calling you to be His child. This is where the relentless demonic attacks of Satan must stop as the Word of God prevails to bring us through contrition and repentance for all of our sins to the purity and holiness of a new birth awash in the strength of sanctification.

 

God’s Word falls like rain or snow from heaven and waters the earth for you (Isaiah 55:11). It makes goodness, kindness, and acts of mercy and love sprout in your life. His Word does not return to Him empty. It is doing something in you. It is doing something in your children. It is doing something in those who overhear, who happen to be on the fringe, who will only spare the time for a glimpse as they pass by.

 

So what about those who are nowhere near the field of the LORD? What about those who are not on the adjacent path or even in the rocky ditch running alongside of the church? What about you when you find yourself out there alone, choked by the cares of this life, in a dry desert wasteland of despair? What about when you have to cross through a dark and dusty Valley of Tears, filled with dangers and devoid of friendly skies?

 

The loveliness of the LORD’s dwelling-place is not only that you get to be here to be drenched in the LORD’s abundance of grace as you hear His Word and feast on the body and blood of the sacrificed Son. The loveliness of this place and the grace of what is given here go with you wherever the winds of life take you. And as the loveliness of God’s promised presence always draws you back to the place where you are sheltered, it strengthens you as you make the pilgrimage, even on the way from far-flung reaches. The cross at the top of the hill, whether you can see it or not from where you have fallen, proclaims the Word that will bring you home.

 

“Blessed are those whose strength is in You, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength; each one appears before God in Zion” (Psalm 84:5-7). Or as it is said in a more familiar psalm, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).

 

It is sometimes only when we find ourselves in the midst of the deepest darkest valleys, that we remember how lovely is the dwelling place of the LORD. We cry out to God, flesh and soul, that we might somehow find our way back. Whether we have fallen to an addiction, or our family has gone to tatters, or our life is nearing its end, it is the Word that fell upon us in the field of the LORD that holds us and draws us back and reminds us of the beauty and holiness of the Church from which the unsurpassed forgiving grace of God was made known to us. It is here that we beheld the love of God upon the cross, heard His Word of peace spoken in our ears, and tasted the body and blood that paid for our redemption.

 

The generous reach of God scattering the seed of His Word to reach us, should in no way diminish our desire to be present where it is so richly spread, and rooted to bear fruit in us and those who come to join us in the fertile field. The grace of God is not a reason to allow people to stumble on the path where the evil birds so busily snatch away the truth. It is not a reason to leave people who have reached rock bottom, without helping to transplant them into the pasture of God’s rest. It is not a reason to settle where thorny problems accumulate and choke out the peace that surpasses all understanding.

 

So why do we feel that way? Why is it so easy to think it’s okay to let ourselves slip over into those regions, or let our children wander into such precarious ground? Why does it seem no big deal to fill our lives with all kinds of stuff that pushes out the Word of God and takes priority over any opportunity to receive the grace of God?

 

It is not that there is something wrong with God being so generous with His grace that His Word falls like rain or snow (Isaiah 55:11). It is that there is something wrong with the ground that receives it, that makes the beauty of this place seem ordinary and even dull, that judges by how we feel about things rather than by the promises that the LORD has actually spoken.

 

If we would consider His warnings, His words of wrath against sin, His free and gracious offer of forgiveness, and the wondrous way in which it was secured in the death and resurrection of Jesus, then this place would matter. Our presence here would matter. The beauty of the music and artwork and acts of love toward one another would matter. Our care for those on the fringes of the field would matter.

 

The fact that these things serve to adorn the gracious good news of life and salvation that we have in Jesus Christ, the priceless gift of God, is what makes them all matter. For there will be times when we and others will pass through valleys of tears, and the only source of rain will be the words of salvation that fall from our God in heaven, scattered so far and wide that they fall like rain upon the dry and dusty reaches.