Patience is suffering, and while we wait for God’s healing of all things, there is suffering, but there is also hope. And in that hope we wait with patience.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 16 A
Texts: Matthew 13:24-30; Romans 8:12-25; Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Saying “be patient” can be destructive.

In the mouths of those in power “be patient” is a way to maintain the status quo, to keep quiet those who are powerless or oppressed. “Be patient” has been used for centuries to thwart progress, end reformation, divert attention from what harms or oppresses or destroys.

So be careful with Paul today, who tells his Roman Christians we wait with patience for God’s healing of the whole creation. If we urge “be patient while you wait for God to bring wholeness and life to this bitterly divided and dying world,” we could actually perpetuate the evil.

But within the word “patience” itself is the clarity we need to be faithful.

In the languages of the West, patience has an important heart.

As far back as we can see, through the Greek and Latin and Germanic and Romantic languages as they evolved into the English language we share, whatever word is used for patience is created from the root word for suffering.

To be patient, our language says, is to suffer. We see this in another usage: the person suffering in the hospital is called the “patient.” You can’t understand “patience” without remembering that for thousands of years, people whose language we now speak in our own way, didn’t understand patience apart from suffering.

So when Paul says “if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience,” he means – in his own Greek and in our modern English and all the languages in between – he means we suffer as we wait. “Being patient” doesn’t mean accepting the status quo or quashing reform or blindly pretending that just waiting will fix things. “Being patient” means we will suffer while we wait, while we work, while we hope.

This shines a different light on Jesus’ parable today.

Jesus says that good seed has been planted, but an enemy has sown evil seed. And we’re going to have to live with both good and evil side by side until the harvest is sorted.

That can give hope. We’re the ones in the parable saying, “Didn’t you make a good world, plant good seed?” and are reassured by God, “yes, I made this world good, but an enemy has brought wickedness and evil into it, so don’t be surprised or dismayed. I’ll take care of this.”

But it’s discouraging, too. We understand the urgency in today’s parable, the desire to root out all the evil right now. We don’t like to suffer. Or to see others suffer. And God’s plan of letting good and evil live together without always intervening will lead to much suffering. Has led to it. Just listen to the news, or walk seven blocks south or one block north of Mount Olive.

And the whole creation knows this, Paul says, suffers this.

Paul doesn’t limit salvation to humanity, or a percentage of humanity. For Paul, God’s healing is a comprehensive healing of all things – all people, all creatures, nature itself.

So the whole creation groans for God’s healing. The parable says we’re not imagining the evil spread throughout God’s good creation. Paul says we’re not alone in seeing this, either. All people, animals, rocks, trees, stars, waters, groan. All are patiently waiting, that is, waiting with suffering.

And what sign will tell the creation God’s healing has begun?

Paul says the creation is waiting for the revealing of the children of God. Those who are revealed as filled with God’s Spirit.

Now, consider the psalmist’s prayer today: “Look well whether there be any wickedness in me, O God, and lead me in the way that is everlasting,” and look again at the parable, keeping Paul’s words in mind. Jesus might not mean simplistically that the “weeds” are evil people and the “wheat” are righteous people. The psalmist and Paul suggest that each of us has God’s good seed growing in us, alongside evil seed that the enemy planted.

It is God’s weeding out of the evil in each of our hearts that will reveal us as children of God. And as more and more are revealed, the world will begin to heal. Our country, our city, can begin to heal.

Right now. Because we don’t have to wait for the end of time for the harvest.

We know all sorts of plants bloom and flower and bear fruit at different times in the year, not just fall. Surely Jesus means that of your heart. While things are growing in you, you might not be able to distinguish good from evil, so you should be careful about what you try to root out. But whenever something bears fruit – when you see what happens when what is growing in you comes to maturity – then you’ll know.

If it’s harming anyone or anything, it’s a weed, and now that fruit is obvious, you can ask God to remove it from your heart and burn it away. If it’s blessing and grace, you can praise God for that harvest in your life.

But patiently waiting for this is, as those before us have said, suffering. Suffering as we feel the pain of \ God burning our weeds. Suffering in the world as evil remains alongside good for a time. The path of being revealed as a child of God for the healing of the world is a path that always includes suffering for and with each other and the creation.

But our God is also a patient God. A suffering God.

It cost Jesus his life to be God-with-us and to call us to be children of God, good wheat bearing seeds, in a world where evil and good thrive side-by-side. And next week Paul will tell us the Holy Spirit speaks on our behalf with “sighs too deep for words,” groaning, suffering, on behalf of God’s children and God’s creation.

But remember, this suffering patience – God’s and our own – is labor pains, not death pains, Paul says. In spite of what we see in our world, and in our own hearts, God’s suffering Goodness and Grace and Love, willing to face and break death on behalf of all things, is now bearing Life for this world.

That’s our hope in the midst of the world’s and our groaning. The Triune God is already giving birth to a new creation, and as you are revealed more and more as God’s child, you are born along with that new creation, for the healing of all.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

God’s vision for our world is like an abundant garden in which there is plenty for all. We become part of that vision by reflecting God’s generous love in our own lives.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 15, year A
Texts: Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Dear friends in Christ, grace to you, and peace, in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus tells this story about four different kinds of soil. There’s the soil of the road that’s been packed down and is too hard for seeds to take root in. There’s rocky soil that only allows for feeble, shallow growth. There’s thorny soil that’s too crowded with competing weeds. And then there’s good soil, in which the seeds can take root and be nourished and grow.
And hearing this story, naturally we want our hearts to be all good soil, all of the time, right? We want our spirits to be fertile ground in which God’s word can flourish, filling our lives with the bountiful fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness.

But, maybe if you’re like me, you’ve noticed that some days lately, the soil of your heart does feel a little packed down, trampled by the constant bad news day after day, wearied by the isolation of quarantine. Maybe, some days, the soil of your heart feels a little looser, and a seed or two starts sprouting, but they don’t get very far because the rocks of grief and anger and dread limit how deep the roots of those little shoots can go. Or maybe some of your heart soil has been invaded by the prickly weeds of distraction that start crowding in and pulling your heart away from the truth of God’s voice.

Have you had any of those experiences? Have you wanted to be like the Psalmist who says to God: “I incline my heart to perform your statues forever, to the end”? (Psalm 119:112, NRSV) But then you realize that forever is a tall order. Eventually, your heart wanders in other directions, and looks less and less like that good soil of obedience to God’s word.

There’s a temptation to judge yourself, to imagine that if you just tried harder, you’d be all good soil all of the time. You just need to tend to your plot a little better. Maybe you can add a little fertilizer of extra prayer, or do some serious weeding of confession, or if things are looking really ugly, maybe you need to rent one of those giant tillers to dig everything up and just start over. It’s easy to think it’s your fault if the soil of your heart isn’t all healthy and fertile.

But the truth is: that kind of self-condemnation has no place in the Christian life. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. That’s what Paul writes in Romans. The Spirit of God dwells in you, giving you life! You’ve been set free by God’s grace! So Jesus isn’t telling this story about the seeds and the soil because he wants to highlight your failure, because he wants to condemn you for finding some rocks or thorns in the plot of your heart.

Listen to what Jesus says: God who is love has sown these seeds. The great gardener is doing this work in you. This isn’t an exacting farmer, carefully choosing the best soil, the most deserving soil, in which to plant these precious seeds. This sower is extravagantly, ridiculously generous. There are plenty of seeds, so many that they can just be thrown anywhere and everywhere. It’s like that joke about Oprah giving away prizes to everyone in her audience: “You get a car, and you get a car, and you get a car!” That’s how this farmer treats all kinds of soil: “You get seeds, and you get seeds and you get seeds!” You don’t have to earn the gift of God’s word. God’s word is given for you, and for you, and for you.

If that sounds like an inept, maybe even wasteful, farmer, that’s because this farmer isn’t concerned with efficiency. This farmer is willing to plant the seed of God’s word in any and all kinds of soil. No matter what the soil of your spirit looks at this particular moment, there is always the possibility of growth. And it doesn’t take much! The tiniest seed with the tiniest roots can grow into a plant that bears fruit. And then, it multiples exponentially, thirty-, sixty-, hundred-fold increase! It’s not just the farmer that’s extravagant, so is the growth! The yield is lavish! Plants that grow into more plants that grow into more plants – and all these yield fruit that creates more seeds.

According to Jesus, that’s what life is like when God is in charge: a wild and overflowing garden. There’s no miserly calculation of who deserves the resources of God’s grace. It isn’t about harsh condemnation of those who are undeserving or inadequate. In telling this story, Jesus describes a God who is recklessly generous, and whose dream for our life together is one in which there is not judgment but generosity, not competition but compassion. There is plenty and richness for all: all people, all creatures, all creation.

In this time we face of economic and social crisis, when so many people are out of work, when food lines are long and health care bills are high, and we are given the message again and again that other people getting enough will mean less for us, when we are told that there isn’t enough health care, or stimulus money, or jobs to go around… in this context, we need to remember that God’s vision for our world is radically different than that zero-sum outlook. God’s vision is the abundant overflowing garden. God’s vision is seeds for all kinds of soil, over and over again. God’s vision is a bountiful harvest.

You are a part of that vision. Whatever state your spirit is on a given day. Whether you’re feeling dry, or rocky, or weedy, or covered in compost and full of nutrients, you are a part of that vision. God, the tender gardener, isn’t waiting to condemn you but to transform you, to bring about radical new growth in you. We say at Mount Olive that we are “always in the presence of God,” so don’t doubt that this magnanimous God is, right now, cultivating that transformation in you, even on the days when it doesn’t feel that way. And boy there are days lately when it doesn’t feel that way. Yet, we are – always – in the presence of God.

We also say at Mount Olive that we are “always being the presence of God.” That’s your part in this vision, too. God’s word has come to you as gift. God’s word has grown in you as blessing. What will you do with that yield? How will your life reflect God’s boundless grace? Don’t be afraid to go out and sow love with the same reckless abandon that you’ve seen in God. There are plenty of seeds, more than enough. And in sowing more, we make more. Or, rather, God makes more, and for that, we rejoice!

Amen.