1 Corinthians 15:35-58 · The Resurrection Body
Get Out of the Seed Box
1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50
Sermon
by Mary Austin
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Years ago, when my daughter was a tiny baby, just a couple weeks old, I could already feel the time zipping by. The five-pound newborn had turned into an eight-pound baby, and she already felt different when I held her. I looked into the future and could see the time zipping by. I lamented the speed of life to my dad, and he said, “Well, time only goes one way, honey.”

It does only go one way. And it goes quickly.

You know that experience from your own lives, or from the kids you know. From Christmas to summer, your grandkids grow in amazing ways. The kids next door come outside, and it seems like they’ve grown a foot in the week since you saw them. Kids at church are being baptized one day and going to college the next, or so it seems. At your own house, all of a sudden the kid who couldn’t remember to put the top back on the peanut butter is an engineer. The niece or nephew who always lost their shoes is giving you financial advice.

It happens to adults, too, but we notice it less. The changes are more on the inside, and less on the outside. We wake up one day and realize that we’re not angry about something any more. Or the worry we’ve carried around for years has lifted, and we feel years lighter. Or we don’t have the desire to eat too much or spend too much or gossip too much anymore.

There are all kinds of growth in our lives. Each one is a kind of rebirth, out of one thing, and into another.

In this letter to the believers in the city of Corinth, Paul is talking about the resurrection that happens at the end of our lives. We await that day, and as we do, we experience this same process all through our lives, until the final resurrection at the end.

Paul uses the image of seeds to make his point. A seed has to die and take a new form to come to fullness. A seed that stays a seed is a little piece of dried-out promise. A seed that falls into the ground, cracks and sprouts can become a flower, or a tree. It can become a redwood, or a sunflower, or a tomato, or a gorgeous lily. There are all kinds of promise in the seed, Paul says, and in us, as the people of God.

The hard part is that promises only come to life when something else lets go and dies. It only goes in one direction. 

In her book Kitchen Table Wisdom, Rachel Naomi Remen tells about a doctor she knows, named Frank. He’s a middle-aged internist, and the director of a clinic. He is a good doctor, but he’s thinking about leaving the field of medicine.

One day he is reviewing his notes before he sees Mrs. Gonzalez, one of his patients. She was an elderly woman, in the last stages of breast cancer. He didn’t have any further treatment to offer her, so their visits together involved adjusting her medication and making sure she wasn’t in pain.

Thinking about the visit, he found — much to his surprise — that it seemed like he should pray with her. He didn’t really pray much and this felt like a big risk. Still, when she arrived, he turned to this frail, grandmother and suggested that they pray together. She heard what he said and started to cry.

Taking her hand, he sat and waited.

Finally, she answered him. “That would be very wonderful, doctor.” She told him that she was Catholic, and asked if they could kneel down. This unnerved him even more. He glanced at the door to be sure no one would see them. Then he, in his white lab coat, helped her kneel on the floor and he knelt next to her, in the tiny exam room in the clinic.

Mrs. Gonzalez began to pray, speaking first in Spanish and then in English. The doctor had not prayed in years, but he felt a sense of calm settle over him and the sound of her voice called up a prayer from his childhood, one he hadn’t thought of for a long time.

 Then Mrs. Gonzalez reached across and touched him on the cheek, and began to pray for him and his work. She asked God to bless him and strengthen him in his work.

Six months later, he said he could still feel the light touch of her hand on his face, and he found himself reaching back to that moment when he needed added strength, wisdom, or patience. He thought he was praying for her…and the gift turned out to be for him.

We never know how the seed will sprout and grow. We never know what we need to let go of, to let end, to let die in our lives, so something new can be born. But in God’s world, we get to choose. We can stay stuck in the seed, dried up, but still full of promise. Or we can accept God’s promise of birth into something new, and let go of the old. We can step into resurrection after resurrection, letting each seed within us flower into something new. Or we can stay where we are all dried up in the seed box.

God is a gardener who doesn’t force the growth but is always willing to plant us somewhere, to water the seeds within us with experiences that nurture us, to bring the bright light of wisdom to our growth.   

God is always ready to grow something new in us, when we can let the seed go and sprout. That pattern is true for our whole lives, and comes to fullness at the end of life.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Prayer:

God who is the gardener of our lives, we give you thanks for every place of resurrection in our lives. Every place where something ends and a new thing begins happens by your grace. Every death that leads to resurrection is from your care. Keep us faithful to you as resurrection people, we pray. In Jesus’ name, Amen. 

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Meeting God at the mall: Cycle C sermons based on second lessons for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, by Mary Austin