This morning I read the parable of the sower for probably the zillionth time. I think it’s probably among the most famous of Jesus’ parables, but I will write it here in case you don’t know it.
Listen! A farmer went out to plant some seed. As he scattered it across his field, some of the seed fell on a footpath and the birds came and ate it. Other seed fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The seed sprouted quickly because the soil was shallow. But the plant soon wilted under the hot sun, and since it didn’t have deep roots, it died. Other seed fell among thorns that grew up and choked out the tender plants so they produced no grain. Still other seeds fell on fertile soil, and they sprouted and grew, and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted. -Mark 4:3-8
For years I’ve been reading that little story, hoping that I am the good soil, and the faith that God planted in me would grow and grow. Sometimes I was worried I was wilting in the heat of the sun, and sometimes I thought I would be choked out by weeds. I prayed and begged that I would be the fertile soil, and my little plant would flourish and grow and never die.
This morning, as I read the parable, my prayer changed.
I want to be the farmer.