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Luke 8:1-15 · The Parable of the Sower
He Who Has Ears to Hear, Let Him Hear
Luke 8:1-15
Sermon
by Larry Powell
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There is an old "preacher story" about the traveling evangelist who had a flair for the dramatic. His sermons were flamboyant and intensely theatrical. His ability to turn a phrase and masterfully create "word pictures" captivated his listeners almost to the point of hypnosis. He was a strong portion.

After accepting an invitation to preach in a little country church, he went out early one afternoon to familiarize himself with the church and its appointments. Among other things, he observed that the sanctuary had a relatively low ceiling to allow for a loft overhead. He also noticed that the ceiling, not having been repaired in recent years, had some rather large cracks in it. He began to think. In time, his thought was interrupted by a young farm boy who had ambled into the church to light the stove for the evening service. Seeing the preacher, he gave a big "Howdy," in the purest RFD tone. The preacher replied with a polite "hello," then added, "Look here, boy. I'm going to preach on the Holy Spirit tonight and wonder if you want to help me with the sermon?" "Shore," grinned the boy. The preacher explained his plan. "I want you to get up in the loft without anybody seeing you and take a dove with you. And when I say, "The Holy Spirit descended like a dove," I want you to throw the dove down through one of the cracks in the ceiling. Can you do that?" The boy was experiencing some difficulty gathering in what it all meant, but answered, "Shore!" That evening, the little church was packed. The evangelist's reputation had preceded him and even the saved were leaning forward on their pews to hear every descriptive word. The preacher waxed eloquent. His voice rose and fell, boomed and whispered, as he elucidated the Scriptures pertaining to the baptism of Jesus. The congregation could see in its mind's eye every subject in the story: John the Baptist, his camel-hair robe, his shaggy beard, the Jordan River, the sky ... the sky appeared to be opening, and oh, it was almost as if a dove was actually descending. Just at that point, the preacher raised his hand toward the ceiling and shouted, "And the Holy Spirit descended like a dove!" Crucial seconds passed and no dove appeared. Again, the preacher yelled out, pointing overhead. At that, a voice called from the loft, "Preacher, the cat's done eat the Holy Spirit; do you want I should throw the cat down?"

The Holy Spirit does move in strange and mysterious ways, but then not every movement is necessarily the visitation of the Spirit. Several years ago, I was preaching in a little country church which had a large pot-bellied stove at the front of the church, almost in front of the pulpit. The most prominent fixture in the church was the long stove pipe which stretched from an outside wall, elbowed, and connected finally to the old stove. The lengthy pipe probably heated as much of the sanctuary as the stove did, but it was warm outside on this particular Sunday and there was no fire in the stove. About midway through the sermon there was suddenly a loud rattling disturbance in the pipe. To say the least, it was disconcerting. "Go ahead, preacher," someone yelled. "That old squirrel gets in there all the time." I was considerably relieved that the Kingdom was not coming, and the people were politely amused that my complexion had blended nicely with the white shirt I was wearing.

Make no mistake about it, the Holy Spirit is present in times of worship, beyond the manipulations of those of us who worship and in spite of what we are or think we are experiencing at the time. Remember, at Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came upon the believers in an unexpected way and in a far greater manner than any of them could have planned or calculated. It is not always with the sound of a rushing, mighty wind or loud noise. Sometimes it whispers. Listen!

DOES ANYBODY WANT TO GOTO HEAVEN ANY MORE?

It is somewhere told that a rabbi died and went to heaven. It seems that when he arrived in heaven, he discovered only three people, reading by a dim light. One of them was reading Time, another National Geographic, and the other was straining over the pages of Sports Illustrated. Somewhat confused, the rabbi then wondered what Hades must be like. When he arrived in Hades, he was even more surprised to find it filled with people enjoying every kind of music imaginable. There was a spiffy eight-piece Dixieland band, a loud, thirty-piece swing band, and everyone was dancing. The puzzled rabbi returned to heaven and asked permission to see God. "Forgive me, Lord," he began, "but I don't understand why there are only three people here in heaven and they are all reading, while down in Hades everybody is dancing and having a grand time. Why can't we have something like that here in heaven?" The Lord replied solemnly, "I can't hire a band for just three people."

As modern day pilgrims, we don't know very much about heaven, but somehow, we do have the notion that overcrowding will not be a major problem. Even those who insist that only a certain magical number of believers will be admitted to Paradise, do not attribute it to lack of space, but to the difficulty in qualifying. And the little story about the rabbi's discovering so few in heaven simply underscores again the lament and warning of the old spiritual, "Everybody Talking About Heaven Ain't Going There." Jesus himself remarked, "Everyone that saith unto me 'Lord, Lord,' will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven." Whatever else heaven is, no one will be denied for lack of space.

We still have many questions about life on the other side. Some maintain that heaven is an actual "place," while others propose that it is a spiritual state of being. Some ask, "Will we know each other there?" Others answer that it will not be necessary to know each other for we will be in a higher, more inclusive dimension. Or some wonder about there being an afterlife at all. I personally believe that the human soul is far too precious a thing to be confined to simply a temporary, earthly existence. However, with all our uncertainties, I have observed at least two attitudes which are shared by most everyone: (1) We hesitate to risk there not being an existence beyond this one, and almost universally want to share in whatever bliss that we see now only "through a glass dimly;" (2) few people are prepared to immediately embark upon the unknown; like the well-known story of the man who didn't raise his hand when the preacher asked his congregation, "Who wants to go to heaven?" and later explained to the preacher, "I thought you were trying to get up a load to go now!"

The Resurrection resolved a great many questions for the believing Christian, as did our Lord's words, "I go to prepare a place for you and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself." Whatever the nature of that "place," we can only say with Thomas, "Lord, show us the way!" No, the problem is not that we shall be crowded out of heaven; it is rather that we tend to allow life to become so full that we crowd out eternity.

THE WILL OF GOD

Thirty-five years ago Leslie Weatherhead preached a special series of five sermons to his congregation which later were published under the title, "The Will of God." In this little book, which has sold over a half-million copies, Weatherhead tactfully reprimands those who stubbornly insist that everything that happens is "the will of God." Although he did not state it in these terms, thinking people must make allowances for accidents, human choice, and the chain reaction of circumstances. To casually mutter that whatever happens is the will of God is cheap theology; it removes any responsibility from humanity and erases orderly design from the universe. Now, those are my words and not Weatherhead's, but he did imply that to piously dismiss everything with the phrase, "it is God's will," is the intellectually lazy man's way of not thinking it through, and a sure sign of spiritual immaturity. There are, he claims, three distinct senses of the phrase, the will of God: (1) the intentional Will of God, (2) the circumstantial Will of God, and (3) the Ultimate Will of God. The water gets deeper here. For those who wish to wade further, I recommend reading the book. Those preferring shallow water may proceed with me to the following paragraph.

A person stands surveying the aftermath of a killer tornado and sighs, "Well, we just must accept God's will." Someone stands by the grave of a newborn infant and whines, "God's ways are not our ways, but we must accept God's will." A parent stands over a child who has just fallen from a tree, breaking his arm, and says, "It is God's will." Now, someone may say how wonderful it is that persons can exhibit such unfaltering faith in the Will of God that they resign themselves to whatever happens by claiming it is the Will of God. Such blind resignation may impress some people as the mark of great faith, but to others of us - it is just clouds in our coffee. There is a certain irrationality about the attitude which suggests that God wills storms, snuffs out the lives of little babies, and causes children to fall from trees. Again, the water gets deep. For those who wish to wade further, I recommend reading the New Testament. Those preferring shallow water may choose to dismiss the matter altogether, saying, "everything that happens is God's Will and we must accept it." Spare me that kind of comfort. A parrot can extend that kind of consolation. One definition of a parrot, offered by the dictionary, is "A person who mechanically repeats the words of others, usually without full understanding."

PORPOISES, PEOPLE, AND PURPOSES

The National Geographic magazine recently contained a superb feature about porpoises. Among the many fascinating characteristics of these remarkable creatures is their highly developed faculty for sending and receiving sound signals. Long before a porpoise can see an object, the distance, direction, speed, size, and configuration have already been computerized via sound passages through its large, complex brain - yet another example of how each inhabitant of the universe is provided with its own unique tools and equipment. Everything has its purpose, and every purpose has the wherewithal to be accomplished. With the passage of years comes the growing awareness of the profound uniqueness and inter-relatedness of all things. Every movement affects the motion of something else, and the effect is relative to the larger scheme. The moon influences the movement of the tides, and we are told that even a pebble tossed into the ocean changes the composition of that entire body of water. We understand what we know about it, but although we grasp the principles of, let us say, how a porpoise interprets sound vibrations, or the moon's wrestling with the water's properties, we still find ourselves asking, "how?" Although we may understand the principles, we don't always know the answers.

We understand the principles involved in a Roman crucifixion, yet we are unable to explain "how" the crucifixion of a single Nazarene resulted in God's greatest redemptive act. We know the principles involved in life and death, but are unable to explain "how" one who was dead was resurrected. However, as believing Christians, we maintain that both Calvary and the tomb had their purposes, and both were related to God's larger scheme. He did not pre-ordain either event; to do so would have reduced Jesus to a character actor trudging through a prepared script. God did redeem the Cross and the grave for his purposes, exalting Jesus as Lord and Savior. Again, every movement effects the motion of something else, and in this case, God's volition in our behalf at Calvary and the Resurrection affected humankind for all time. Looking back at it now, we know that. We understand the principles but are left weak-kneed at attempting to explain the "how."

God has provided us with an inherent desire to know him, with a soul to experience him, a heart to love him, a mind to understand him, and hands and feet to serve him - yet another example of how each inhabitant of the universe is provided with its own unique tools and equipment. Everything has its purpose and the wherewithal to accomplish it.

THE REAL PRESENCE

Elbert Hubbard tells of one of his solitary strolls along the Thames at Chelsea to visit the house once inhabited by Thomas Carlyle. Prevailing upon the caretaker, he gained entrance to its cold and musty rooms. Pensively, he sat alone, gathering the thoughts of his sensitive, unbelievably fertile mind. He wrote:

There I stood before the fireplace, where he of the Eternities had so often sat and watched the flickering embers. Here he lived his loneliness and cursed curses that were prayers, and here for five decades he read and thought and dreamed and wrote. Here the spirits of Cromwell and Frederick hovered; here that pitiful and pitiable long line of ghostly phantoms in the Revolution answered to his roll call.* (* Hubbard, Elbert. Little Journeys. The Roycrofters, East Aurora, New York; 1928, page 81.)

The longer he remained, the more Hubbard began to experience some mystical presence of the long departed Carlyle. It seemed to him that Carlyle's presence lay lightly within the house as, I suppose, one's perfume lingers in a room after she has gone.

I am reminded again of Edgar Allen Poe's great masterpiece, "The Raven," in which he broods for his beloved Lenore. The chair in which she had rested, each thing she had touched, the room itself - all called her name to his mind. His heart leaped within his breast at each familiar thing about him which they had touched and shared together. How long, he asked, must his mind be tormented by tender memories, rendering solitude unbearable? When would relief come? Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

No, Carlyle was not "really" present during Hubbard's visit to Chelsea. Neither was Lenore "really" standing among the shadows in Poe's drawing room. But they were both there. Love and memory and knowledge and yearning made them real! A "spirit" must first be in one's mind and heart before it becomes any kind of experience. Hubbard and Poe were able to come to their experiences because they loved and knew something about the ones of whom they wrote. Others, who did not know Carlyle or Lenore, could sit in their rooms and experience nothing.

Following the Resurrection, the disciples experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit. They were able to experience it because they remembered, knew, loved, and yearned for Christ. Christ was in their minds and hearts. I do not understand the workings and initiatives of the Holy Spirit, but do know that the Spirit tends to be "really" present when accompanied by love, knowledge, memory, and yearning for Christ.

REMEMBERING TO FORGET

One of the most fascinating faculties of the human species is that of memory. Without memory, everything would be limited to a present experience. We could neither recall what preceded the present nor know what to anticipate following, for we would be unable to remember past experiences. The absence of memory makes learning impossible. Our society places a high premium on learning, or remembering what we know. But more than that, it is essential how we apply what we know to the human experience. Knowing and learning and remembering are utterly useless unless they are applied in some meaningful manner. However, memory, good or bad, is one of our most blessed gifts.

The longer I live, the more inclined am I to suspect that just as memory is a genuine blessing, we have been equally blessed with the ability to forget. Each of us has seen things, felt things, done things which we have mercifully been able to forget. We don't forget all of them. Sometimes we won't allow ourselves to forget. We don't want to forget what we have learned, by either good or bad experiences, but there are some things we need to learn to forget. The hasty word, the sudden slur, the false accusation, condescending glance, hateful tone, a petty injustice, or a wrong long ago put right. Hate, like acid, eats away at that in which it is stored. Savoring hurt, nursing a shame, and self-persecution gnaw away at us, too. It is a blessed thing to be able to forget, and, in one sense, forgetting may properly be interpreted as a gift of grace.

So much of Christianity is predicated upon grace and forgetting. Christian love and forgiveness would be impossible without it. The Almighty has promised to forgive our transgressions, to "remove them as far as the east is from the west" and "remember them no more!" In our own realm of affairs, we have been reminded to "forgive men their trespasses as they forgive ours." That involves a certain amount of forgetting. It also involves a large amount of grace. We would do well to remember that.

A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE

I read recently that Americans own ninety percent of the world's bathtubs. Somewhere else, I read that a tourist from another country was asked what impressed him most about America. The reply was, "The size of your garbage cans." There is every evidence that we are a well-bathed, well-fed country.

Food and cleanliness are not always viewed in the same perspective. The Church in medieval times disdained personal hygiene, maintaining that the unkept body was "proper mortification of the flesh." Today, of course, cleanliness is extolled. Likewise, ardent believers fasted as a spiritual purge. More recently, the fast has been used as a vehicle of protest by social activists.

In a word, meanings are largely determined by the perspective from which we view them. Someone will interpret the fact that we possess ninety percent of the world's bathtubs to mean that we are a grossly vain nation. Someone else, on the other hand, will interpret it to mean that we are the cleanest nation in the world. To someone else, it will mean nothing except that we have ninety percent of the world's bathtubs. Some claim that fasting is strictly a religious exercise, some see it as rejection, someone else as merely a good health practice, and others view the whole thing as ridiculous. Some people believe that longevity of life is directly related to how we care for our bodies, while others claim, "Well, when my number is up, that will be it," so they do as they please. I recall a few years ago when someone referred to a certain peace symbol as the "footprint of the American chicken." It was called the "Witch's Sign," "Mark of Satan," and various other uninformed renderings. The fact is, it was a universally recognized symbol which included three letters of the semaphore code, meaning "Nuclear Disarmament." Of course, the "footprint" group and the "semaphore" group could never convince each other of their interpretations for they each viewed the symbol from their own perspective. Meanings are all in how you view them. The loud, feisty individual who feels compelled to charge about, hyperventilating an opinion, pities the quiet, retiring person and says that such people are timid because of an inferiority complex. The only thing is, the timid, shy person is saying the same thing about his gusty opposite. A third party, observing them both, wishes they were more like him.

Christianity, in addition to being a relationship, belief, and a way of life, affords us a perspective - a perspective which delivers us from our prejudices and selfish interpretations; a perspective which is not shaped by current events, sensationalism, fads, or novel approaches. It is based in biblical tradition, the life of Christ, and in the mind of God. Some people say Christianity is an ideal, and not a practical, workable way of life - but then, I suppose it is all in how you look at it.

PEANUTS AND PAUL

I have forgotten now which of Charles Schulz's "Peanuts" characters it was, but one of them was humorously portrayed jogging in a recent cartoon. In the process, various parts of his body remarked among themselves of the stress which the exercise was applying to them. The legs complained about having to transport the entire body; the heart reminded all other weary faculties of its importance; the lungs gasped a reminder about how essential they were to the whole affair, and before it was over, every faculty and function of the body had made its presence known. The point was, of course, how intimately dependent each part is on the other.

The apostle Paul conveyed the same message to the young Christians at Corinth: "For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, 'Because I am not the hand, I do not belong to the body,' that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, 'Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,' that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you.' On the other hand, the head cannot say to the feet, 'I have no need of you.' To the contrary, the parts of the body which seem to be weaker are indispensable. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. Now, you are the body of Christ and individually members of it," (1 Corinthians 12:14-26)

Occasionally, we may be tempted to come under the mistaken impression that our particular function in the fellowship of the Church will not be missed. Even worse, we may succeed in convincing ourselves that we have no function, fill no role, and will riot be missed. I suppose the only thing worse than being impressed with our own insignificance is being disillusioned about our importance, convinced that our particular function or opinion is the "be all, end all." The apostle was addressing both of these attitudes in his letter to immature Christians. Paul insisted that everybody is somebody, and nobody can replace anybody in the Body of Christ.

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

The primary function of a sign is to convey a message. The message may consist of directions, advertising, "soft-discovery," or social statements. So successful is this method of communication that certain cities have imposed sign ordinances. Pretty soon, I expect someone will propose to regulate and tax the mobile mini-signs, or "bumper stickers." They communicate messages too. For instance, "If you can read this, you are too close" - "Pass with care, driver chews tobacco" - "Attend Church Sunday" - "America, love it or leave it" - and so on. Then, there are those apocalyptic messages like, "Where will you spend eternity?" or "In case of the Rapture, this car will be abandoned." There are thousands of others - "See Rock City" - "This driver subject to Big Mac attacks" - "I may be slow, but I'm ahead of you" - ad infinitum. Sometimes, I see the one which reads, "I found it," and wish I had one which read, "I didn't know it was lost."

Signs are purveyors of messages. However, not all signs appear in written form. With this in mind, consider some signs of your time in relation to the following:

The five reasons for Rome's fall deduced from the writings of noted historians of the Roman world:(1) The breakdown of the family and the rapid increase of divorce.(2) The spiraling rise of taxes and extravagant spending.(3) The mounting craze for pleasure and the brutalization of sports.(4) The expanding production of armaments to fight ever increasing threats of enemy attacks, when the real enemy was the decay of the society from within.(5) The decay of religion into myriad and confusing forms, leaving the people without a uniform guide.

Jesus said, "When it is evening, you say, 'It will be fair weather; for the sky is red.' And in the morning, 'It will be stormy today, for the sky is threatening.' You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times." (Matthew 16:1-3)

Signs DO convey messages, and some of them are thought provoking.

THAT'S IMPRESSIVE ...

A young dandy had just attended a botany lecture and found himself, surprisingly enough, walking alongside an attractive female classmate who had caught his eye throughout the lecture. Eager to meet her, and even more anxious to impress her, he bent down and picked the leaves from a small plant. Holding them proudly for the girl to see, he spoke in the words of his new botanical knowledge - "Look, here is non-cyclic photophosphorylatin." The girl, visibly unimpressed, replied, "Could be; I only know it is poison ivy." Sometimes, the harder we try, the harder we fall.

And then there was the case of the overly-educated preacher who was assigned to a rural charge at the edge of the Ozarks. One of the good families of the church invited the heady minister home with them for the Sunday lunch. "Make yourself to home, preacher," encouraged the man of the house as he retired to the kitchen to assist the wife. The minister noticed an old picture hanging handsomely over the mantle. When the host returned to summon the distinguished guest to the table, the minister's curiosity caused him to ask, in his most impressive, scholarly tone, "Is that a daguerreotype of one of your progenitors?" The host answered, "Heck no, that's jest a ole picture of grandpa." Sometimes, the harder we try, the harder we fall.

A story is told of Anton Lang, who has played the part of Christ in several productions of the Oberammergau Passion Play. Lang was accidentally discovered in a secluded place by another member of the cast, carrying a heavy beam of wood over his shoulder, walking back and forth in the dark. When asked the meaning of what he was doing, he replied, "I do this so I can know how it really feels when I come before the thousands of persons who will see me in the play as I carry Christ's cross up Golgotha's hill." That IS impressive. A man so dedicated to his pursuit that he wants to become totally absorbed in it, allow it to be a genuine part of his experience. This is what separates the genuine article from the synthetic. The Bible says that the "WORD BECAME FLESH," and that "in all ways Christ became like us." He entered into humanity not only to fully experience it but to fully redeem it. The magnitude of such a proposition is so utterly impressive that it tends to elude us because of its inclusiveness. However, is it really impressive in 1982, or (1) have we heard it so many times that the wonder of it all falls upon insensitive ears? (2) Do we really know what it means? Or (3) are we waiting for what Weatherhead calls "Further light"?

But there is more. We are reminded that when our Lord set about the business of selecting those who would be closest to him, he did not go to the "main mouths" or the most imposing of the community; not to those who were impressive because of eloquence, wealth, station, ability, or name. He placed his finger upon the great common strain of humanity. Why? In order that they should know that any achievement would not be of themselves nor because of their own supposed influence. It would be due to grace, and God should receive the praise. They would be impressed at the love, providence, and power of God, not with themselves Just knowing that delivers us from the temptation to speak of "non-cyclic photophosphorylation" and "daguerreotypes of progenitors" or any number of ways in which one falls all over oneself to be supremely impressive. Grace is the most impressive thing I know.

TO WEAR A STRANGE FACE

Following a tour of a working craft village in Cherokee, North Carolina, I asked the Indian tour guide a follow-up question to a statement she had included in her earlier remarks. She had said that almost all the Cherokees in that area belonged either to the Baptist, Methodist, or Assembly of God denominations. Having read a great deal about the native American religion across the years, I was curious. "Is anybody still worshiping in the 'old ways' (as Indians refer to original beliefs)?" I asked. "No one," she replied. "In fact, our children are no longer taught the Cherokee language." I could not help but notice that, as the Indians would say, she "wore a strange face" as she answered. There were bitterness, hurt, disappointment, and a peculiar expression of displacement, like one who is a stranger in her own country, whose native tongue is a foreign language to one's own kind, whose customs have been erased by outsiders, whose teachers of religion have long since gone into the nearer presence of the Great Spirit. The beautiful, silent forests which once were the home of Tsali, Junaluska, Sequoyah, John Ross, and the eastern band of the Cherokee are now lined with souvenir shops and tourist attractions. Chief Curtis Fish and others earn their living by hawking "tips" from photographs made with tourists. The mountain river which winds its way through the reservation is now strewn with bottles, beer cans, paper plates, and other debris desposited by the tourists. A past generation remembered how things used to be. The present generation cannot remember at all. By their own admission, the mysteries and functions of roots and herbs now lie buried with their forefathers. The meaning and method of tribal dances have become obscured. The language is all but extinct, and as if the cost had not already been great enough, the Cherokees have had to buy back their own land from the United States Government. The "Trail of Tears" (or literally, the "trail of much weeping") ended at Tallequah, Oklahoma for the Cherokee, but the time of weeping without tears continues. Indeed, she wore a strange face.

The remnant people are a living example of what occurs when a culture becomes stifled. The culture about them has overwhelmed their own. The result has been at best, moral genocide.And now it is happening to us. The only difference is that we are being stifled by a culture that we have created ourselves. In the midst of it all are a Christian people. Remnants - who more and more are unable to tell you anything about their book, know less and less about the backgrounds of the great hymns, and whose origins have become so obscured that we cannot even agree among ourselves. The Sunday School, the primary teaching form, continues to decline at an alarming rate. Like the Cherokee, we have the "shops," the buildings, and the relics, but they are poor substitutes for the real article. The remnant is there, but it is becoming progressively obscured as we come more and more to resemble the culture about us.

The Bible speaks of Christians as sojourners, pilgrims, and "strangers in their own land," but regrettably, as time continues to create its distance, Christians have come to wear a strange face.

CSS Publishing Company, CHRISTIANITY IS A VERB, by Larry Powell