The Gospel According to a Soybean Farmer Matthew 13: 1-9 I've
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The Gospel According to a Soybean Farmer Matthew 13: 1-9 I’ve probably preached on the parable of the sower a dozen times over the years. And, no, it’s never the same sermon. Because, even though this is one parable to which Jesus adds an explanation, there is so much meaning to this parable that Jesus offers to us. And so, in this sermon, I’m not going to speak about the seed on the path; or in the thin, rocky soil; or choked among the weeds. I want to focus on the fertile soil, the soil that gave forth thirty, sixty, even a hundredfold. Because, after all, isn’t fertile soil what WE are supposed to be? And this leads to a story from a sermon we heard while we were worshiping on our vacation, a story the pastor very graciously sent me a copy of when I told him how much it spoke to us. And to give further credit to where it is due, it actually comes from a book written by Rev. Robert Schuller, of the Crystal Cathedral in California. You see, one day, Dr. Schuller received in the mail a soybean seed. And a note from Ansley Mueller, a farmer from Pleasant Plains, Ohio. And the note went like this: “It was 1977, Dr. Schuller, and I lost half my crop. It was a bad, bad year. It was so wet I couldn’t get half of it harvested and it didn’t develop. So, at the end of the year, in October, I would walk through the fields and try to pick up a bushel here and a piece there, Then, I saw standing by itself a most extraordinary, unusual looking soybean plant. I walked over and I was shocked by its size and its good looks. I went and carefully picked off the pods. There were 202 pods and I opened them and counted out 503 soybeans. I took them home, I kept them in a pan all winter and they dried out. The next spring they just seemed special to me. In 1978 I took those 503 soybeans and I planted them in a little plot behind my house and when October came, I harvested 32 pounds. Thirty-two pounds! I dried them out in the winter and in 1979 I took those thirty-two pounds and I planted them in one acre and when October came, I harvested. I had 2409 pounds and I planted them in sixty acres, which was all the land I had available. In October, just a year ago, I harvested twenty-one hundred bushels and cashed it out for fifteen thousand dollars. Now, Dr. Schuller, one plant, four years later, fifteen thousand dollars. Not bad, is it? So, Dr. Schuller, here’s your bean.” Almost forty years ago. I wonder how much 2100 bushels of soybeans would be worth now! One plant. One farmer. One fertile soil. One, and this is the big part of the story, one measure of trust. I suppose Ansley Mueller could have just given up, could have decided that that one extraordinary plant wasn’t really all that extraordinary after all. He could have sold his farm, walked away from Pleasant Plains, Ohio, and been short $15,000. Or more. But he chose to believe that thirty, sixty, a hundred fold were waiting in the fertile soil. Fertile soil. The kind Jesus was talking about. During the Boer War, fought between the British and the Dutch-descended Afrikaners of South Africa, there was a British soldier who was court-martialed. His crime? He was a discourager. Now, I’m not sure if being a discourager is actually listed in the military handbook along with desertion and disobeying the orders of a superior. It should be if it isn’t. For you see, what this soldier did was go back and forth among his colleagues, assuring them that they were on the losing side; that they were bound to be defeated; that they were likely going home to Britain in body bags; that there was no hope. And sadly, though probably some of them knew better, a lot of his fellow soldiers started to believe him. And their courage became discouragement. Ansley Mueller could have been discouraged by what he saw on his farm. Likely, it would have made sense. Half his crop gone; too wet; only one soybean plant, even if it looked extraordinary. I wouldn’t be surprised if his neighbors would have encouraged him - to give up. So, let’s get back to the sower in Jesus’ parable. After watching his seed fall on the path, in thin, rocky soil, and and weeds and thorns, he might have felt discouraged too. But he wasn’t. Because somehow he knew, there was fertile soil awaiting the seeds he was sowing. So, let me ask you a few questions to start off the program year. Do you have the courage to be fertile soil? Do you have the good old-fashioned gumption (which is courage with its sleeves rolled up and hands a bit dirty from hard work) to allow the seeds the divine sower sows to take root in your soul? Do you have the courage to look around and find a way you can make your fertile soil contagious? It is, you know. And to be perfectly frank, do you have the courage to take the words of the report Jesse Butler gave earlier and commit to making the next report we hear from the Stewardship and Finance Commission one that will speak of thirty, sixty, a hundred fold? Or are you a discourager? I can’t court martial anyone who is. But I’d like to. The author of Hebrews states it quite clearly in chapter three, verse 6: “Christ is faithful as a Son over God’s house - meaning His church. And we are His house – once again meaning His church – if we hold on to our courage and hope of which we boast.” Let’s do a little boasting this year of our courage! Ansley Mueller had courage. He also had a vision. Now, I know nothing about growing soybeans. Although I did manage to have a small garden in our backyard when we living in Pennsylvania. Other than the rhubarb, which I planted, upside down I found out later, it did pretty well. We grew tomatoes and peppers and lettuce and corn. We had a grapevine in the backyard too and under it I took the chance to sow a few pumpkin seeds to see what might happen. Oh and I planted a few broccoli and cabbage plants. Now, I didn’t know much about growing much. Certainly not as much as Ansley Mueller. I guess you could say I was a bit naïve about my success. Even after my father assured me I could never grow corn in a backyard; even after the pumpkin seeds, at first, didn’t do too well; and even after a groundhog, who should have stayed in Punxatawney with his cousin Phil, ate the centers out of the broccoli and cabbage plants. But you know what? Even with my gardening naiveté, I still had a vision. Oh, maybe it was a bit more far-sighted that it should have been. But I was sure something would happen. After all, Jesus told us that with a simple prayer of faith, we could move mountains. Why not grow a few vegetables? Well, my father, later that summer, ate his words, as well as homegrown corn on the cob. And while Phil’s cousin ate the centers out of the broccoli and cabbage plants, the plants produced broccoli and cabbage anyway. And yes, pumpkins did grow – not as many as you see turned into jack o’lanterns on the front porch of the fellow across the street on Halloween, but we had some. Oh, a bit of culinary advice. NEVER try to make pumpkin pie from that kind of pumpkin. No giving thanks on Thanksgiving for that creation! No, I didn’t get thirty fold, sixty fold, or a hundred fold, nor 2100 bushels. But I got more than I expected. My vision was rewarded more than I thought it would be. So, another set of first Sunday in the new program year questions. How’s your vision for our church? Is it twenty-twenty, or a bit blurry? Are you near-sighted, seeing only what might be in front of you? Or are you far-sighted, seeing what just might be right ahead of you? Do you have the vision to see what you and we can be? On Pentecost, Peter, explaining what was happening to the disciples, quoted from the prophet Joel (3:28): “I will pour out my Spirit on all people; your sons and daughters will prophecy; your old men will dream dreams; your young men will see visions.” And to be gender and age neutral, let’s include old women and young women, and middle aged men and women and throw in Gen X and millennials of both genders! And teenagers, children, and toddlers. All God’s children got a place in the choir, whether they are singing or not! Are you naïve enough to see those visions of what we can be? Ansley Mueller was. And look what happened to him. And the fertile soil of his vision. He also, quite simply, asked. For he was well aware of a comment Dr. Schuller made in one of his books: “Any fool can count the seeds in an apple.