Seeds

 

Seeds

Seeds - Audio/Visual 

Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. (Isaiah 53:1-3)

Want to see a miracle? Take a seed the size of a freckle, put it under several inches of dirt, give it plenty of water, light and fertilizer and then get ready. A mountain will be moved. It doesn’t matter that the ground weighs a thousand times more than the weight of the seed. The seed will push it back. And every spring, dreamers around the world plant tiny hopes in overturned soil. And every spring, their hopes press against impossible odds and explode into bloom. Never underestimate the power of a seed.

As far as I know, James, the writer of the book after his name, wasn’t a farmer. He was, after all, the half-brother of Jesus so maybe he was a contractor. But regardless of his profession, he knew the power of a seed sown in fertile soil. Here’s what he said: “Those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of goodness.” (James 3:18) And the principle for peace is the same as the principle for crops: never underestimate the power of a seed. Take the story of Heinz, for example.

Europe, 1934. Hitler’s plague of anti-Semitism has infected a continent. Some would escape it. Some would die from it. But eleven-year-old Heinz would learn from it. He would learn the power of sowing seeds of peace. Heinz was a young Jewish boy in Hitler’s Europe, and the Bavarian village of Fürth, where Heinz lived, was being overrun by Hitler’s young thugs. Heinz’s father, a schoolteacher, had lost his job. All recreational activities had ceased. Tension mounted on the streets, and Jewish families clutched to the traditions that held them together – the observance of the Sabbath, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Old ways now took on new significance. And as the storm of persecution blackened and swelled, these ancient observances were a precious cleft in a mighty rock. And as the streets became a battleground, that kind of security meant survival.

Hitler youth roamed the neighborhoods just looking for trouble, and young Heinz learned to keep his eyes open. When he saw a band of troublemakers, he would step to the other side of the street. Sometimes he would escape a fight; sometimes not. One day in 1934, a pivotal confrontation occurred. Heinz found himself face-to-face with a Hitler bully and a beating appeared inevitable. This time, however, he walked away unhurt – not because of what he did but because of what he said. He didn’t fight back; he spoke up, instead. He convinced the troublemakers that a fight wasn’t necessary. His words kept a battle at bay. And Heinz saw firsthand how a word can bring peace. He learned the skill of using words to avoid conflict. And for a young Jewish boy in Hitler-infested Europe, that skill had many opportunities to be honed and perfected.

Fortunately, Heinz’s family escaped from Bavaria and made their way to America. Later in life, Heinz would downplay the impact those adolescent experiences had had on his development. But it makes you wonder because after Heinz grew up his name became synonymous with peace negotiations. His legacy became that of a bridge-builder. Somewhere he had learned the power of the properly placed word of peace. And you have to wonder if his training didn’t initially come on the streets of Fürth. But you may not know him as Heinz. You probably know him by his Anglicized name, Henry. Henry Kissinger. Never underestimate the power of a seed.

How good are you at sowing seeds of peace? You may not be called on to stave off an international conflict, but you will have opportunities to do something more vital: to bring inner peace to troubled hearts. Jesus modeled this. Interestingly, however, we don’t see Jesus settling many disputes or negotiating conflicts. What we do see is Jesus cultivating inward harmony through acts of love: washing the feet of men he knew would betray him; having lunch with a corrupt tax official; honoring the sinful woman whom society had scorned. Jesus built bridges by healing hurts. He prevented conflict by touching the conflicted. He cultivated harmony by sowing seeds of peace in fertile hearts.

Pause for a moment and think about the people who make up your world. Stroll through the gallery of faces that are significant to you. Mentally flip through the scrapbook of snapshots that picture the ones with whom you deal often. Can you see their faces? Your spouse. Your best friend. Your golf buddies. Your kids. Your aunt across the country. Your neighbor across the street. Your co-worker. Freeze-frame those mental images for a moment while I tell you how some of them may be feeling.

I went to my doctor for my annual physical and, at my age, the doctor does stuff that I wasn’t even aware should be done. As a result, he ordered the works on me. One nurse put me on a table and stuck little cold suction cups on my chest. Another nurse wrapped a heavy band around my arm and squeezed a black bulb until my arm tingled. Then they pricked my finger and told me to fill up a cup. Awkward. Then, with all the preliminaries done, they put me in a room and told me to take off my shirt and wait for the doctor. There’s something about being poked, pushed, measured and drained that makes you feel a little bit like a head of lettuce in the produce department at the local grocery store. I sat on a cold metal chair, stared out the window and waited.

Somebody in your world probably feels like I felt in my doctor’s office. The daily push and shove of the world has a way of leaving us worked over and worn out. Someone in your gallery of people is sitting on a cold aluminum chair of insecurity, clutching the backside of a hospital gown for fear of exposing what little pride he or she has left. And that person desperately needs a word of peace. Someone needs you to do for them what my doctor did for me.

My doctor is a small-town Pilipino doctor that practices in a big city. He still remembers names and probably keeps pictures of patients he’s seen over the years on his office bulletin board. And though you know he’s busy, he makes you feel like you’re his only patient. So, after a bit of small talk and few questions about my medical history, he put down my file and said, “Let me take my doctor’s hat off for a minute and talk to you as a friend.” I’ve known my doctor for a quarter of a century.

Our chat lasted maybe five minutes. He asked me about my family. He asked me about my work load. He asked me about my stress. Nothing profound, nothing probing. He went no deeper than I would allow, but I had the feeling that he would have gone to the bottom of the pit with me had I needed him to do so. After our chat, he then went about his job of tapping my knee with his rubber hammer, staring down my throat, looking in my ears and listening to my chest. When he was all done, as I was buttoning up my shirt, he took his doctor’s hat off again and reminded me not to carry the world on my shoulders, and to eat fewer potato chips. “And be sure to love your wife and those kids. Because when it all boils down to it, you’re not much without them.” And he walked out as quickly as he’d come in — a seed sower in a doctor’s smock.

Want to see a miracle? Plant a word of love heart-deep in a person’s life. Nurture it with a smile and a prayer, and watch what happens. An employee gets a compliment. A wife receives a bouquet of flowers. A cake is baked and carried next door. A widow is hugged. A gas-station attendant is honored. Sowing seeds of peace is like sowing beans – you don’t know how or why it works; you just know that it does. Seeds are planted and topsoils of hurt are shoved away. Never underestimate the power of a seed. God didn’t.

When his kingdom was ravaged and his people had forgotten his name, he planted his seed. When the soil of the human heart had grown crusty, he planted his seed. When religion had become a ritual and the temple a trading post, he planted his seed. Want to see a miracle? Watch him as he places the seed of his own self in the fertile womb of a young Jewish girl. Up it grew, “like a tender green shoot, sprouting from a root in dry and sterile ground.” (Isaiah 53:2) The stones of legalism that burdened backs; the stones of oppression that broke bones; the stones of prejudice that fenced out the needy. All of them – every one of them – overturned and shoved aside. By a seed.

But it was that final stone that proved to be the supreme test of the seed. The stone of death — rolled there by humans and sealed by Satan in front of the tomb. And for a moment it appeared that the seed would be stuck in the earth. For a moment, it looked like the rock was too big to be budged. But then, somewhere in the heart of the earth, the seed of God stirred, shoved and then sprouted. The ground trembled, the rock of the tomb tumbled and the Easter Lilly blossomed.

Never underestimate the power of a seed. Never.

Grace,

Randy