Saturday, October 13, 2012
Choosing option Bee.
“Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow, but when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, withered and died.” (Matthew 13: 5-6)
You’ve probably heard this passage before. Jesus walks onto a boat, large crowd, parables galore! I was taught The Parable of the Sower in Sunday school, heard sermons, and possibly did a liturgical- style pantomime of it once or twice…
Recently, I experienced this story in the book our group is studying, (Jesus for President) and saw it in a new light. During the weekly discussion, which is made up of congregation members of Southside Presbyterian, as well as our YAVs, the conversation moved towards call and discernment. One of my housemates, Maddy, questioned her future, asking when she would be able to share her new knowledge with the world. She made a very good point that we are living in a very progressive (in some ways) city, we all bike to work, we live in community, we eat locally, and live simply, but how does that experience reach others? How do we share this life with others?
“You’ll just know.”
“You will feel pushed or pulled in a certain direction.”
To me, these are standard answers that bring so many more questions. I stared down at my book, flipping pages, entering and retreating from our discussion. Isolated, but wanting presence.
I found the Sower Parable. Familiar words brought comfort. Then, suddenly, loss and confusion. The moment when something becomes so familiar, it seems foreign.
Am I a seed, or can I be the sower, planting seeds of thoughts and ideas? Some may fail, some may take root but never grow, some may fall among people who do not fully understand, and some will flourish under the ideal conditions. If some of my plants fail, isn’t their anything I can do to save them? Water them? Shade them? Fertilize them?
Everything I learn goes against leaving plants to wither and die. Every day there is a new way to transplant, reduce pests, and save plants from certain doom. Some crops in the desert do not need any help; they grow on rocky soil and flourish with little water. What about plants who do not need “good soil”? (If we try to help our native plants with fertilizer or compost, they would actually whither and die.)
Is a plant that flourished without “good soil” inherently evil?
If I am a seed, which seed am I? Is my future already known? Am I a seed sown into ground I had no choice over? Right now, I am flourishing. I feel it, I know it. But, am I growing in this life, in this place, only to whither once I leave YAV? Is society waiting in the shadows, ready to spring up, grasp my heart, and tear it out?
As a seed sown, how can I help the seeds around me?
Where are the bees?