The Glory of the Shattered Shell

Imagine, for a moment, that you are a single grain of wheat. You are perfect, polished, and entirely intact. Your golden shell is hard and protective, keeping you safe from the wind, the birds, and the damp, dark uncertainty of the soil. From the outside, you look like a success. You have managed to keep yourself "together." But there is a silent tragedy in your safety. As long as you remain whole, you are utterly alone. You are a monument to yourself, but you are a graveyard for the life locked inside you. To stay "together" is to stay small; to be "shattered" is the only way to feed a hungry world.

This is the paradox at the heart of our two Gospel texts today - the first from chapter 12, which we heard at the beginning of our worship. And a second text from chapter 19, which we’ll hear in just a moment. The paradox begins with a group of Greeks, who we meet in chapter 12. 

We wrestled a bit this past Tuesday in our Caribou conversation about exactly who these Greeks were. From the context - it would seem as though they are Greek-speaking Jews. Part of the diaspora - the Jews who had fled Jerusalem due to Roman imperialism and persecution. And the destruction of the temple in 70 CE. Keep in mind that this gospel was actually written after the temple was destroyed - some 60 years after Christ.

Or, were these actually ethnic Greeks? Gentiles who had come to Jerusalem because, perhaps, the word about this man Jesus was getting out - particularly after he had raised Lazarus from the dead. In our Tuesday morning conversation, I landed on the side of these being diasporan Jews--Greek-speaking Jews, returning from far away to celebrate Passover. I was wrong. Let me show you how I figured that out.

When we look at this text in the Greek, there are two possibilities. One is that this word is Hellēnistai, which would mean that these were Greek-speaking Jews of the diaspora.  The other possibility is that the word is Hellēnes, meaning ethnic Greeks. Gentiles. Which word do you suppose I found? 

That’s right. A look at the original language tells us that these were ethnic Greeks, Gentiles who had come to see Jesus. Why is this important? 

Well, when Jesus arrives in Jerusalem, these ethnic Greeks - these Gentiles - approach the disciples with a simple, but world-shifting, request: “Sir, we wish to seek Jesus.” When this message reaches Jesus, he doesn’t give a lecture or perform a miracle. Instead, he gives this rather odd response. He speaks of biology. He says that the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified, but he defines that glory through the lens of a seed. Jesus recognizes that their arrival is a signal that the harvest is becoming too big for one village, or one nation, to contain. As long as he remains “intact” as a local teacher in Galilee, the life he carries remains confined. For his life - for his fullness of life - to reach the Greeks, the Romans, and eventually us, the “seed” has to fall. The shell has to break.

It is the brutal reality of this “shattering” that we hear now in our second gospel text for the day, from John, chapter 19.

"So they took Jesus, and carrying the cross by himself he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, 'Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.' Many of the Jews read this inscription because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, 'Do not write, "The King of the Jews," but, "This man said, I am King of the Jews."' Pilate answered, 'What I have written I have written.'" --John 19:16b-22 (NRSVue)

We often read this as a moment of pure suffering. And, make no mistake, it is.

But through the lens of the grain, it is the moment of ultimate relinquishment. We see the "shattering" in the weight of that cross and the piercing of Jesus's body. In the eyes of the world, this is a scene of total defeat where the seed is being crushed into the dust. Yet, look at the detail of that inscription. It is written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. This is the divine answer to those Greek seekers who came knocking in chapter 12. The shattering of Jesus’s physical body is the breaking of the shell that will allow the Spirit to pour out into every language and every culture. In that moment, the boundaries of Israel are breached forever. The Seed dies to its singular, local identity so that a global family can sprout from the soil of Calvary.

Sometimes in my sermon preparations, I go down rabbit holes. Do you ever do that? Most often they are a waste of time. But, this week, I stumbled upon a YouTube video (You know how I love YouTube!) that captured this text incredibly well. Watch it here.

This movement - this breaking of the seed shell - reveals the profound difference between sacrifice and surrender. We often think of the cross as a sacrifice—an active, heroic choice to give something up. And it was. Sacrifice is the ticket to the doorway. But surrender is the posture that keeps us open. When Jesus bows his head, we see his internal yielding of a soul that has stopped clinging onto its own life. To the seed, the moist earth feels like a cold grave; but to the plant, that same earth is the only source of life. The difference is surrender. When we surrender, we stop wrestling life into submission and finally allow the Creator to reshape us.

The shattering of the One led to the healing of the Many. Because the Seed was willing to die, the Gentile expansion exploded across the earth, from the Hebrew-speaking Jews, to the Latin-speaking Romans, to the Greek-speaking Greeks, to us, English speakers that we are. 

The shattering of the seed - of Jesus - turned a local movement into a universal hope. Into our universal hope. This is not just a historical event for us to remember; it is a biological and spiritual reality we are invited to inhabit. 

We all have "shells"—identities we’ve built, reputations we guard, and plans we hold onto with white knuckles. We spend our lives terrified of the "fall," afraid that if our plans break or our reputations shatter or our identities are fractured, we are finished. But the Gospel tells us that we are not being destroyed; we are being planted. We are moving from the "prison" of self-control into the "grace" of abundant growth.

So, if you feel "shattered" today—if a career has ended, a relationship has failed, or the person you thought you were has been stripped away—do not mistake the breaking of the shell for the end of your story. Like the Greeks at the Passover, the world is waiting to see the life of Christ that inhabits you. But, they cannot see it through a polished, "together" exterior. They see it through the cracks. They see it in the fruit that the Spirit grows in us only after the fall. 

May we have the courage to release our grip, to open our hands from a posture of defense to one of receiving, and to trust that the shattering of our shell is, in fact, the birth of the harvest. May God grant it. Amen.

Preached March 29, 2026, at Rejoice Lutheran Church, Clearwater, MN. 

Palm/Passion Sunday

Text: John 19:16b-22 NRSVue

God's Kingdom Announced: The Hiddenness of God

Again [Jesus] began to teach beside the sea. Such a very large crowd gathered around him that he got into a boat on the sea and sat there, while the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land. He began to teach them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and it sprang up quickly, since it had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose, it was scorched; and since it had no root, it withered away. Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. Other seed fell into good soil and brought forth grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.” And he said, “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”

When he was alone, those who were around him along with the twelve asked him about the parables. And he said to them, “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables; in order that

‘they may indeed look, but not perceive,

    and may indeed listen, but not understand;

so that they may not turn again and be forgiven.’”

And he said to them, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand all the parables? The sower sows the word. These are the ones on the path where the word is sown: when they hear, Satan immediately comes and takes away the word that is sown in them. And these are the ones sown on rocky ground: when they hear the word, they immediately receive it with joy. But they have no root, and endure only for a while; then, when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately they fall away. And others are those sown among the thorns: these are the ones who hear the word, but the cares of the world, and the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things come in and choke the word, and it yields nothing. And these are the ones sown on the good soil: they hear the word and accept it and bear fruit, thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.”

He said to them, “Is a lamp brought in to be put under the bushel basket, or under the bed, and not on the lampstand? For there is nothing hidden, except to be disclosed; nor is anything secret, except to come to light. Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” And he said to them, “Pay attention to what you hear; the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given you. For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”

He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.

--Mark 4:1-34 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I have a friend who farms with his brother and two adult sons in eastern South Dakota. I may have mentioned them before. It’s a family operation. They farm over 10,000 acres a year, predominantly wheat and soybeans, plus alfalfa as feed crop for the cattle they also raise. The first time I saw them in full operation was about 10 years ago. 

Farming has changed dramatically from the days that my dad farmed. Then, it involved driving a relatively basic tractor, planting seed, praying for rain and for sun at the right times. And, then, harvesting. There was a near complete reliance upon nature. There was really very little that my dad could do to ensure a good crop. Today, farming is truly a science. It has become so technologically advanced that farmers can now view and study their fields through satellite images. They can see where they need to re-seed. Or to add more fertilizer. Equipment is massive and computer-operated. And, although the hours are still as long and the pressure to plant and harvest at the right times remains, a farmer can sit in the air-conditioned cab of his or her massive tractor, turn on the GPS and let the vehicle literally drive itself around the field.

But, there is one thing that a farmer cannot do. He or she can know exactly when the right time is to plant the seed. They can fertilize it perfectly. They can irrigate it and provide exactly the right amount of water. And, although, they can’t always control the sun or the rain or the hailstorms that might come through, the efficiency of farming today far outpaces that of years ago. But there is one thing that a farmer simply cannot do. They cannot pull the sprout out of the seed. 

Today, we have three parables about seeds and farming. In his day, Jesus’ method of teaching through parable was not uncommon. It was a way to use something that was common and familiar to teach a deeper meaning. In the parables today, Jesus touches on farming, something that would have been very familiar to his listeners. But the deeper teaching, for those who were able to hear and understand it, was about the kingdom of God.

This is the point in the section that begins with verse 10. On first hearing, it may be difficult. A little unsettling even. Surely, Jesus wants everyone to understand what he is trying to teach, right? But, that’s not what these verses say. It’s like it’s a secret club, a closed society. Where the insiders get the “truth” and those who don’t remain outside. Yet, as things will unfold in the gospel of Mark, we will begin to see the lines between these groups become blurred. At one point or another, everyone is confused by Jesus. And sometimes even, those on the “outside” seem to understand Jesus more than those on the “inside.”

I want you to think back to the fall. To the beginning of the Hebrew scripture in Genesis, where we first meet a God who creates, who loves, and then seems to become grief-stricken and angry after this humanity that God has created with freewill, rebels. God devises another plan, choosing a people to lead and to teach so that they might begin to reveal to the world the loving and life-giving nature of God. And, they, too, rebel. Over and over God meets Israel where they are, attempting to reach them, to reveal to them God’s true nature that which we first glimpsed at the beginning of creation. Yet, they continued to rebel. God attempts to bring them back into the boundaries established by God, boundaries designed to bring life instead of destroying it. Finally, when this fails, God determines an ultimate plan to bring life to all humanity and to all creation through God’s very own Son. It is in him where the true nature of God is revealed. A nature of love and sacrifice. A nature of forgiveness and grace. 

But, God is not finished. This is the message of, first, John the Baptist and, then, Jesus, through whom the kingdom of God has come near. It’s actually just the beginning. The beginning of a new way of being. A new way of living. A new reign. A reign of peace and justice. And a reign of the continuing revelation of God.

Because God’s work on earth did not end with Jesus. It began with Jesus, through whom this true nature of God was revealed and the hidden nature - the mysterious nature - of God’s reign began. It continues to be unveiled. God continues to reveal godself to us. A few years ago, the United Church of Christ began a campaign where they put up billboards around the country and placed ads on television using the phrase, “God is still speaking.” That's the point here. We are still learning about God and God’s kingdom. The mysteries of God and God’s kingdom continue to be revealed. Much of this still remains hidden and veiled from our eyes, even from those who are the most learned about the things of God.  

So, what are we to do? How are we to begin to understand? Jesus tells us as he tells the disciples: Listen. Look. Pay attention.

In my seminary class on the Lutheran Confessions, one day my professor, who is a noted Lutheran scholar, confessed to us a huge mistake he had made. In the early years of the debate in our church - the very same debate that our Methodist sisters and brothers are going through right now - over the issue of homosexuality, and gay marriage, and, particularly, the ordination of gay pastors, he had come out very publicly in opposition to everything around this issue. Claiming as the church had done for so long, that homosexuality was an abomination and that it was contrary to the will of God.

And then, he had a friend come out after years of hiding his homosexuality. As my professor supported his friend and walked alongside him, he was witness to the transformation in his friend. From darkness to light. From deep despair to peace and wholeness. To joy and happiness. And my professor began to wonder just what new thing God might be doing here. What new place God might be moving the church to. What new aspect of God and God’s reign was being revealed.

If we, like my professor, listen. If we look and we pay attention, we, too, can begin to see the unfolding of the good news of God’s kingdom. It manifests itself in light and love. In joy and happiness. In forgiveness and acceptance. These are the hallmarks of God’s kingdom - the signs for us that God’s kingdom is coming near and is being further revealed. Signs of goodness, rather than evil. Peace, rather than violence, Wholeness, rather than despair and destruction. Life, rather than death. 

And so we continue to throw out the seeds of the good news in what we say and what we do. There will be some seeds that we may not, in our time, see sprout.  This is perhaps one of the hardest parts of our faith. Over the past couple of months, I have been working with a family to try to keep them together and to keep them from being evicted. There have been signs of the seeds of love and support and grace and forgiveness sprouting at times. And, yet, this past week, everything seems to have completely fallen apart. 

It is easy to fall into despair and a sense of hopelessness. Yet, we do not know when the seeds we have planted will sprout. We may never see that happen. But, we trust that God - in God’s time - will grow God’s kingdom. And we continue to listen, to look and to pay attention. Because often there are other seeds that sprout when we least expect them, in people and places we never anticipated. This is the paradox of the reign of God - that it is revealed precisely where it often seems to be most hidden.

Just like the farmer, we can never know when God will bring the seeds that have been planted to sprout. And to take root. All we can continue to do is to plant them. With love. And with grace. And with the trust in God’s promise that the seeds that have been planted will grow in God's time into an abundant harvest that will be gathered at the fullness of the reign of God. When the full nature of God and of God’s kingdom will be revealed and no longer hidden. 

"For now we see in the mirror dimly. But, then, we shall see face to face." (1 Cor. 13:12)  Amen.

Preached January 26, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
3rd Sunday after Epiphany
Readings: Mark 4:1-34, Hosea 10:12, Psalm 126

Letting the Farmer Go Free (English)

He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”

He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples. Mark 4:26-34 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

On behalf of my congregation in Kentucky--Grace & Glory--I bring you warmest greetings. As we’ve begun to know each other over these past few days and have learned of the different places we’ve come from to be here, I’m particularly grateful for all of you and to know that many of our congregations in this church are exploring the possibilities of new ministries in our changing (or changed) contexts. And even that some of you are in or nearing first call.

I’ve been now in my first call in Kentucky for about a year-and-a-half. In some ways, living there has been this interesting mix between the urban life I’ve lived as an adult and also of the rural life that I lived until the age of 19.

My father was a rancher in north central South Dakota, an area that at that time was known for a fairly arid climate, but with a geography that was well suited to growing sheep and cattle. In addition to ranching, he also grew feed crops--crops that would be harvested at the end of each summer and put up to ensure that there would be enough to feed our animals over rather brutal winters.

So, it seems no coincidence that our lessons today should be two parables about farmers and farming and seeds. The Gospel of Mark contains few parables, but there are an entire string of them that begin in the third chapter and conclude with these two. When one looks at all of them together we can see that they create a context for understanding the ministry of Jesus as the inaugural ministry of the coming, yet somewhat elusive, reign of God. A reign that feels as though it will never come because of some blunder by a disciple or two. Or that will remain hidden because of a command by Jesus to, simply, keep it a secret.

One aspect of Jesus’ parables suggested by Matt Skinner at Luther is that they have a way of reordering our conventional assumptions and values. They don’t explain how we can necessarily recognize the reign of God. But, they do make it clear that we will need to adopt new ways of perceiving God’s kingdom.

The first parable is about a farmer. Something with which I can definitely relate. There’s nothing earth-shattering about the chain of events in this parable. The farmer plants the seeds. And then the farmer waits. And waits. And waits. And waits.

As one who has lived with a farmer, I can attest to the waiting. And waiting. Sometimes a little worrying. Then more waiting. And as one waits, without really doing anything other than the initial planting, things begin to happen. The seeds, buried in the ground, begin to sprout. And then to break through. And then to grow. And grow. And grow. Until finally it is time for the harvest. There is really little that the farmer must do except to plant the seed and then to trust that nature will take its course, as it inevitably always does.

The second parable, then, is that of the mustard seed. It’s a parable that we have likely heard many times over the course of our lives. Of a seed that isn’t like any ordinary seed, but that begins as something very small and seemingly insignificant, but that turns into something very visible and great. A tiny seed that grows and morphs into the greatest of all shrubs. A shrub that is more than just beautiful, but a shrub whose branches offer shelter and security. 

I am here this week because the congregation I serve is at very start of a new ministry to our Latino neighbors. Many of you are here, too, because you are either exploring something similar or already moving forward. We’ve listened to the statistics that relate to the growth of the Latino population in our country. We’ve also heard the statistics about the decline of congregations in the ELCA. In the midst of these statistics and in the midst of these two parables, there are a couple of lessons for us.

One of the first, and perhaps most important things for us to remember is that, just as the farmer in the first parable has little to do with the growth of the seeds, so, too, we have little to do with the growth of God’s kingdom. Just as nature eventually ensures the sprouting and growth of the seeds, so, too, the nature of God’s kingdom is to grow and to be seen and witnessed. We are like the farmer, waiting for the seeds of God’s kingdom to grow and take root, yet knowing though that it will happen. Because this is what God’s kingdom does. It happens.

Then, the second lesson is that God’s kingdom cannot be likened to amazing trees, such as the cedars of Lebanon. Or the redwoods of California. Or the oaks of Kentucky. Or of any other tall, majestic tree. No, God’s kingdom is likened to that of a shrub. A mustard shrub. An ordinary plant that shows up and takes a place over inch by inch. And that eventually ends up changing the entire landscape. Some might consider it a nuisance. Others might think it is too much of a good thing. And yet others, like the birds in our parable, might find a place where they can be safe. A place where they will be happy. 

The question for us as we leave here is what is next? Knowing what is happening demographically in our country. Knowing what is happening demographically in our congregations. Knowing that God’s kingdom will move forward no matter what happens, wiil we chose to be a part of it? To go more deeply into our neighborhoods? To go more deeply into relationship with those who might look a little different from us, but who have, as we do, the same desire for shelter and security? For hospitality? For sanctuary and sustenance? Will we chose to be a part of God’s kingdom at work and, as a result, to be transformed by the ordinary in ways unimaginable? Just as each of us has been transformed by the unimaginable acts of our Savior, Jesus Christ?

I hope so, dear friends. I hope it is time to let the farmer in each of us go free! Amen.

Preached June 14, 2018, at Lutheran Seminary of the Southwest, Austin, TX.
Reading: Mark 4:26-34