The Realm of God - Stay Humble, Stay Curious
Preached Sunday, July 23, 2023 at Decatur First UMC, Decatur, Georgia
Watch the entire worship service here.
Matthew 13: 24 - 36 (NRSVU)
24 Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like someone who planted good seed in his field. 25 While people were sleeping, an enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat and went away. 26 When the stalks sprouted and bore grain, then the weeds also appeared.
27 “The servants of the landowner came and said to him, ‘Master, didn’t you plant good seed in your field? Then how is it that it has weeds?’
28 “‘An enemy has done this,’ he answered.
“The servants said to him, ‘Do you want us to go and gather them?’
29 “But the landowner said, ‘No, because if you gather the weeds, you’ll pull up the wheat along with them. 30 Let both grow side by side until the harvest. And at harvest time I’ll say to the harvesters, “First gather the weeds and tie them together in bundles to be burned. But bring the wheat into my barn.”’”
31 He told another parable to them: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in his field. 32 It’s the smallest of all seeds. But when it’s grown, it’s the largest of all vegetable plants. It becomes a tree so that the birds in the sky come and nest in its branches.”
33 He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast, which a woman took and hid in a bushel of wheat flour until the yeast had worked its way through all the dough.”
34 Jesus said all these things to the crowds in parables, and he spoke to them only in parables. 35 This was to fulfill what the prophet spoke: I’ll speak in parables; I’ll declare what has been hidden since the beginning of the world.
36 Jesus left the crowds and went into the house. His disciples came to him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.”
This is Eutrochium purpureum. It’s a late blooming flower native to eastern and central North America. It has a sweet vanilla scent that is attractive to butterflies and pollinators, making it a very popular plant in native gardens.
I took this picture on August 21, 2017 in Blairsville, Georgia. My family had driven north to see the solar eclipse that day. We stayed overnight in a bed and breakfast that was on land that used to be a plant nursery. Our host was the daughter of the former owners. She knew every flower by name and there were a lot of them. I waited for her to tell me about this one, but she never did.
I finally asked, “What’s the tall purple flower that the butterflies seem to love?”
And she said, “Joe Pye?”
“Is that the name of the flower?” I asked
“That’s not a flower, darlin. That’s Joe Pye Weed. It grows all over.”
I was a little embarrassed, but I still wanted to know more.
“It’s kind of lovely, and the butterflies are all over it. Do you think it would grow in my yard?”
She looked at me with a combination of pity and pride and said, “If you like it I’ll send you home with some.”
And she did. She dug up a few stalks and roots of Joe Pye from Blairsville, and I planted them in my Decatur backyard.
When spring arrived in 2018, I was so happy to see it sprout up. It was strong and healthy, until I came home one day and it had been cut down. Our yard crew apparently also looked at it and saw a weed. While I was at work they had cut it off near the ground with a weed wacker. I was sad but undeterred. I made a little sign that said, “DO NOT CUT.” I laminated it, and staked it in front of where the Joe Pye had been, but it did not come back in 2018.
In 2019, I made sure to put a new sign up in front of my Joe Pye as soon as it sprouted, which sort of worked. They did not cut it. They did spray it with herbicide. I came home one day to find a very tidy flower bed, and my Joe Pye withered and brown.
And then I guess I lost interest, I remember thinking in 2020 and 2021 “I wonder if the Joe Pye will ever come back?” But if it did, the yard guys took care of it.
This is a picture from June of 2021, and that arrow shows where my Joe Pye should have been, tucked between the gardenia and the iris. There was nothing there.
Completely unrelated to the Joe Pye incident, Andy and I let our yard crew go last winter. We have a really small yard that we can mostly handle ourselves, and I wanted to participate in No Mow March, where you don’t cut your grass or weed for a month, and your wilder yard gives pollinators a chance to thrive in the early spring. At our house, No Mow March was so grand that we also did No Mow April, and then No Mow May. And, this is my Joe Pye today -
It bloomed this summer for the first time, almost six years after I planted it. It turns out in this case, I needed to do less, not more to get the result I was hoping for.
At the end of the reading this morning, the disciples ask Jesus to explain the parable of the weeds in the field. And I can see why. If I had been a disciple hearing this parable for the first time, and I would think, “I’m wheat, right? I’m following Jesus, so I’m not a weed. Who are the weeds? Is that guy a weed? I bet he is. What did Jesus say we should do about weeds again?”
I would be so busy locating myself in this story, and trying to avoid the fires of hell, that I would not hear the two brief parables that follow. So after Jesus says something about a seed and something about yeast, and he takes a break I would sidle up next to him and say, “Can you tell me a little more about these weeds and wheat, so I can make sure I’m good here?” And I imagine that Jesus would look at me, and love me, and roll his eyes a little.
So, for Jesus’ sake, and for disciples everywhere, let’s take a look at these other two parables. Verse 31 says, “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in his field. It’s the smallest of all seeds. But when it’s grown, it’s the largest of all vegetable plants. It becomes a tree so that the birds in the sky come and nest in its branches.”
Why does this short parable follow the one about the wheat and the weeds? Are the two parables unrelated? Or is Jesus building up to something here? I think he’s building.
The parable of the wheat and the weeds creates an image of good and bad, of insiders and outsiders, dwelling together. We can’t tell the difference now, but ultimately there are dire consequences for that which is bad.
The parable of the mustard seed presents a different image. The kingdom of heaven is like a large harvest that requires lots of work AND it’s like one, single, unimpressive mustard seed. While workers in the harvest notice the weeds immediately, the mustard seed is different. Growing a tree takes years, not just one growing season, but transformation happens regardless of time, and in the end the seed becomes a tree and a home for birds.
It’s worth noting that those birds had nothing to do with planting that tree. They didn’t water it, they didn’t tend it. They did nothing, and it was still their home. In this image of the Kingdom of Heaven, there is no good or bad, and seemingly no consequences, there is just transformation that begins so small it is almost imperceptible, but in the end, it is enormous, and it is home.
Verse 33 “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast, which a woman took and hid in a bushel of wheat flour until the yeast had worked its way through all the dough.”
So the kingdom of heaven is like a great harvest, AND it’s like a tiny seed, AND it’s like hidden yeast. For those of us who don’t bake bread, it’s helpful to know that yeast is what makes it rise. Otherwise flour, salt, and water come out more like crackers than bread. For us it’s probably a neutral word that doesn’t carry any moral or spiritual baggage, but for those listening to Jesus it carried extra meaning.
In the New Testament, yeast is a word that sometimes signals suspicion. In chapter 16, just a few chapters ahead of where we are now, Jesus will warn his disciples, “Watch-out and beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” Those are the religious experts.
In Galatians, Paul tries to convince the church that they are no longer slaves to the law, no matter what other religious leaders are telling them. He says, “Who stopped you from obeying the truth? This line of reasoning doesn’t come from the one who calls you. A little yeast works through the whole lump of dough.” Which would have been a pretty good burn of the religious leaders he was talking about.
In the New Testament, yeast can signal trouble, it’s a specific kind of trouble that comes from those in religious leadership. The idea that salvation can be achieved by following a set of rules, or by avoiding certain behaviors… that idea is dangerous to faith because it can so easily lead you to think that you are saving yourself.
So it’s surprising that Jesus says the words, “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast…” I imagine his audience raised an eyebrow at that. And Jesus wasn’t done confusing them, because the next line was outrageous.
Telling a parable in which a woman facilitates the coming kingdom of God would have been astonishing. Women were considered far less valuable, far less important, than men. And for a family with financial means, the person that Jesus is describing as central to God’s work is not just a woman, she’s also a slave or a servant. The people listening to this parable would not have expected such a person to be so important to the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus might as well have said, “The kingdom of heaven is like something you can’t trust, being used by someone of no value, to change everything.”
I don’t think we can take any one of these parables on their own and grasp the fullness of Jesus’ teaching about the realm of God. The context is absolutely critical. But when these parables are allowed to complement and build upon each other, we can see the realm of God, and our part in it, more clearly. And this is what I see -
Stay humble.
Stay curious.
I knew what I wanted when I planted that Joe Pye in my backyard, and yet the person who gave it to me thought I was foolish, and the professionals who cared for my yard thought they knew better than me. Together these three parables caution us against such arrogance. And even though I was right about this, in my own backyard, out in the world, all too often I allow judgment and arrogance to overpower curiosity and humility, so it’s only fair for me to tell one more story.
I get to spend some time in Clay County, Alabama, where the Watts side of my family has lived for generations. When I was a kid living in Birmingham, we just referred to it as “the country,” and that’s a good name I guess.
It’s the kind of place where people raise a finger or two off their steering wheel when they pass you on the road, as a kind of passing of the peace. It’s the kind of place where, if you forget to pack your socks and underwear, you’re going to need to make do with whatever you can find at the Dollar General in town, and while you’re there the neighborhood dog might let herself into the store and have to be shoo-ed out by the staff and customers. It’s the kind of place where every town, no matter how small, has its own Baptist church, and its own United Methodist church, and its own church with a name like “Church of the Open Door” that never does seem to have its doors open when I drive by.
Last time I was there, the week of the fourth of July, we were driving to lunch two towns away, and the sign on that town’s United Methodist church looked different. This was not my family’s church, but I have friends who grew up in that church. I’ve worshiped in that church and I’ve always felt warmly about it. As we drove by earlier this month, I noticed that matching paint had been used on their sign to very carefully paint over the word “United” and the same paint had been used to very carefully paint over the flame, leaving a plain cross behind. So this church, that I had felt very warmly toward, has disaffiliated from the United Methodist Church. And there are several reasons why a local church might choose to do that. The primary motivation these days is usually related to the full inclusion of LGBTQ folks, which the UMC is moving toward at a painfully slow pace, but moving forward nonetheless.
I saw that sign and I felt like I had been set on fire. My stomach dropped. My face burned. My eyes watered. My hands shook. My mind became cloudy with something like rage mixed with heartbreak. I was so mad, and so so sad. I’m a straight cisgender woman, but even I know it can’t be easy to be queer in the country, so for your church or any church to make such a dramatic public statement…
As bad as I felt when I saw that sign, I hurt for the folks who would see it and know they wouldn’t be welcome there. I worried about the ones who would have to drive by it every day on the way to school or work.
If that church had been a weed, I’d have pulled it. I’d have pulled it up by the root, and sprayed the ground around it with herbicide, just to make sure it couldn’t do more damage. I’d have felt justified and righteous, and I likely would have bragged about it. I know what God wants. I know what God doesn’t want.
Jesus said, watch-out and beware of the yeast of the religious experts. But was he talking about them? Or was he talking about me?
We drove on to lunch, which I only sort of ate, and then we headed back to the house. Our route took us back by the church that disaffiliated and then, closer to our house, we drove by the United Methodist Church that my grandparents had been members of when they died.
I noticed a banner in front of their church. I had not seen it on the way to lunch because it was only facing toward town. I was afraid to look, so I quickly looked at their sign to see if it had changed. It hadn’t, so then I read the banner.
It said “Find your new church home. All are welcome! We are United in Love!”
I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to pull over and take this picture. My response to the other church’s disaffiliation had been rage, heartbreak, and judgment. And maybe that was their initial response too, but they didn’t stay there. In their banner I saw bread rising. I saw the mustard seed growing.
In that banner I recognized my own arrogant assumption - that disaffiliation is a weed. I hate all of this and I never wanted it for my denomination. But if some churches hadn’t said, “You're not ok here, we don’t want you.” I’m not sure that so many others, including Decatur First, would have found the resolve to say, “Please come here. You’re with us now.”
I’m not saying that disaffiliation and the pain it causes was all a part of God’s plan. There’s a difference between Everything happens for a reason (which I don’t believe) and God wastes nothing** (which I do believe). The parable says that there is an enemy planting weeds, and I don’t doubt that. But that’s not my call. Weed or not, God uses it for good. She’s taking the yeast of the pharisees and baking bread with it, so nothing is impossible.
Which leads me to, maybe, the most surprising transformation of all. My own heart. My primary feeling when seeing this banner was relief. Part of that was knowing that there is a church proclaiming a wide welcome in the community. But I also felt a deeper and more personal relief - God is at work planting mustard seeds with the intent of welcoming new people home. And God is using whatever is available to embolden churches who want to be part of that work. And as much as I believe in that work, I’m not in charge of it.
This gives me peace to wish the other church well. After all, judgment and arrogance has a 100% failure rate in my life. I’m going to keep working for inclusion in the church with all the love and grace that I can, that’s how the realm of God looks to me.
I don’t expect that everyone gets as triggered as I do by the changes on a church sign, but I bet you’ve got something that makes your face burn and your mind cloudy. It might be something huge like climate change or poverty. I suspect for most of us there is something personal that triggers our judgment and arrogance - someone whose political beliefs are different from our own, someone who has been unkind to us, someone or something that makes our job more difficult or makes life more difficult.
I’m going to tell you what I need someone to tell me. That emotional and physical response is valid - the difficulty is real, the pain is real. AND, what happens next is my choice. If I choose to follow the path of judgment and arrogance, I facilitate my own suffering and I may pull up the wheat with the weeds, accidentally working against God.
If we can relocate ourselves in humility and curiosity, we can work with God, and we will suffer less. So instead of saying, “I know what God wants.” We might say, “I wonder what God will do with this?” And instead of moving toward judgment and weed-pulling we can ask, “What is my part to do, and what is God’s?” And then we wait for the answer.
*From the cowardice that dares not face new truth.
From the laziness that is contented with half-truth.
From the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth. Good Lord, deliver us. Amen.
* This is the Prayer for the Spirit of Truth, #597 in the United Methodist Hymnal.
** The concept of “God wastes nothing” is from Father Richard Rohr.
For more thoughts about the UMC and the generations-long process that has led to this moment in time, check out this sermon from February of 2019 during the last General Conference.
The CEB Storytellers Bible was a wonderful conversation partner in writing this sermon. I recommend it. That’s not an affiliate link. I am not that cool.
