Yan’s sermon tonight, when talking about the Parable of the Sower, reminded me of a poem I wrote ‘about the soil.’
Gardeners’ Question Time gathers experts and amateurs,
Asking questions about growth.
It’s all about the soil, we’re told.
Centuries before, a man told a story
All about the soil.
A dusty path,
A rocky, clay-filled patch,
A thorny, weedy field,
Rich, friable, moist, manure-fortified soil.
The different soils produced different returns,
But what’s that got to do with me, living in an urban environment?
Parables about soil don’t reverberate in my soul.
The dusty path represents the hard-hearted:
Folk who simply won’t believe,
Scornful, doubtful, cynical,
Content to live a material life in a material world.
The rocky road represents the faint-hearted:
Rootless, easily knocked off course,
Superficially smiling, but quickly toppled over
By life’s adversity challenges.
The thorny ground represents the half-hearted:
Divided personalities who let worry and anxiety choke life and joy out,
Burdened by ills, myopic about life,
Seeing only the negative and never quite believing in miracles.
Ah, but this rich, fertile soil represents the whole-hearted:
People who persevere,
People who hear God and who keep that word hidden in their hearts,
People who decide to live by faith and not by sight,
People who understand that growth takes time
And who continue to garden long after
The amateurs give up.
People who weed, water and weather the storms.
What kind of soil are you?
What kind of crop are you growing?
