Sermon at St. Mary’s Church Parish Church, West Dean – 6th Sunday after Trinity – Sunday 12th July 2026
Isaiah 55:10-13; Romans 8:1-11;
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
May I speak in the Name
of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words of yours be a joy and
blessing to all who hear them. Amen
I was delighted when I
realised that the Gospel Reading today was one which Liz and I have recently
finished studying, at some great length, in our local house group. The in-depth study which we did led me to realise
there was so much more to this parable, which I have heard so many times
before, going back as far as school assemblies in the 1960s! Today, I can only really scratch the surface
of some of the revelations which I discovered during our study but will try and
do so, as much as I can, in the short time available this morning. The biggest
revelation for me was that there was never any question of the seed that is
being sown in the parable being bad, only the way in which it is received. For Liz, one of the revelations was that we
needed to buy a second composter!
Joking aside, the three readings today give
us one beautiful image: God is always sowing life. He is never stingy with his
grace. Like the rain in Isaiah, like the Spirit in Romans, like the Sower in
the Gospel, God keeps giving, keeps calling, keeps planting, even when the
results seem uncertain.
Isaiah tells
us that just as rain and snow fall upon the earth and do not return without
making it fruitful, so God's word never returns to him empty. It always
accomplishes his purpose. Sometimes we expect God's word to work instantly, but
God often works quietly, patiently, beneath the surface. Seeds take time to
germinate, and so too does Faith. Often, we use the phrase “Rome wasn’t built
in a day”; it grew over a period of time and so too does our Faith. In fact, it never stops growing. Just as my
studies in astronomy often lead me to more questions than answers about the
cosmos, so too does our study of scripture.
But, back to
the Sower. In our Gospel message, he
scatters seed everywhere. From a human perspective, it almost seems wasteful.
Seed falls on the path, among rocks, into thorns, and only some on good soil.
But this is precisely how God loves. He does not ration his grace to those who
seem most deserving. He offers his word to everyone.
Earlier I
stated, quite categorically, that the seed being sown in the parable was not
bad. But, how do we know
whether the seed is good seed?
The answer
is surprisingly simple. The seed in the parable is the Word of God, and God's
word always bears the marks of its divine origin. Good seed draws us toward
Christ. It deepens faith, awakens hope, and enlarges love. It leads to
forgiveness rather than resentment, humility rather than pride, generosity
rather than selfishness. Good seed may challenge us, even unsettle us, but it
never leads us away from God or diminishes the dignity of others. As Paul
reminds us in Romans, the Spirit gives life and peace. If what we receive draws
us toward the life of the Spirit, we can trust that it is good seed. Anything in our lives, any seeds which are
sown which do not produce these characteristics is bad seed, or weeds, which
Jesus deals with in another parable. We
should, therefore, always be on our guard against those people and institutions
which would seek to sow weeds into our lives. We need to pray for discernment.
But perhaps
the more searching question is: How
do we know whether we are good soil?
The parable
is not about labelling ourselves once and for all, as I once thought. The
condition of the soil can change. A hardened path can be broken open. Rocky
ground can be cleared. Thorns can be pulled out. Good soil is not perfect soil;
it is receptive soil.
We become
good soil when we are willing to listen. Jesus ends the parable by saying,
"Let anyone with ears listen." Listening is more than hearing. It
means allowing God's word to sink beneath the surface of our lives. It means praying
with Scripture instead of merely reading it. It means letting God's word
question us before we question it. How
is our spiritual life? What areas of our life are susceptible to weeds, or
stones, or dryness? What do we need to do to prepare the ground. Do we need a new composter?
Good soil is
also honest soil. We need to recognize the rocks that prevent deep roots—old
wounds, fears, pride, or habits that keep us from trusting God. We identify the
thorns that choke growth—the anxieties, distractions, ambitions, and endless
busyness that crowd out prayer and charity. Every examination of conscience is,
in a sense, an examination of the soil.
This is
where Paul's words in Romans become such good news. Left to ourselves, we
cannot make ourselves fruitful. But "the Spirit of God dwells in
you." The same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is at work within us,
cultivating the soil of our hearts. Christianity is not simply about trying
harder; it is about allowing the Holy Spirit to transform us from within.
That is why
the readings this morning fit together so beautifully. Isaiah reminds us that
God's word is effective. The Gospel tells us that God's word is generously
sown. Romans tells us that God's Spirit enables us to receive that word and
bear fruit.
Perhaps the
greatest comfort in this parable is that Jesus never tells us to judge someone
else's soil. He invites each of us to tend our own heart. Every day, God
scatters fresh seed. Every day, the Spirit can soften what has become hard,
remove what has become crowded, and deepen what has become shallow.
The measure
of good soil is not how impressive we appear, but whether God's word is
producing fruit in us: greater patience, deeper compassion, stronger faith,
more generous love, and a growing resemblance to Christ.
May we ask
today for two graces: the wisdom to recognize the good seed that God
continually sows through his Word, the sacraments, and the witness of faithful
people; and the humility to let the Holy Spirit prepare our hearts to receive
it.
Then
Isaiah's promise will become our own: the word God plants within us will not
return empty, but will bear fruit—thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold—for the life
of the world.
Amen MFB/236/10072026
