July 12, 2026 – The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
The Rev. Mark Colbert
I think a lot of you don’t know how I actually became an
Episcopalian. For about 12 years of my life I was actually raised within
the Baptist Church. So, one of my best friends that I was hanging out
with on a Wednesday afternoon invited me to come to his youth group,
and for reasons unknown to me I said yes. It was funny I didn’t know
what denomination my friend was but I knew he was at least Christian. I
remember my first time at a Episcopal youth group I felt this spiritual
connection with God. And because of that I attended youth group every
Wednesday. Finally my youth director took notice of that and invited me
to attend church on Sunday and following Sunday I went to church and
was immediately hooked. Mainly because the Episcopal Church got out
before noon and coming from a black baptist church Glory Be To God!
But as I got older I found myself loving the Episcopal Church and loving
the soil that this wonderful church has taught me. I think a lot of us have
similar stories about how we became Episcopalians or why we choose
Good Sam as the soil for our spiritual seeds to grow.
In today’s Gospel from Matthew Jesus tells us the parable of the
sower. Jesus goes out of the house, sits by the sea, and begins to teach.
And because the crowd is so large, he gets into a boat and teaches from
there. It is a simple scene, but it already tells us something important:
Jesus meets people where they are. He also tells this parable for
everyone to understand. Because during this time period, most people
were farmers/agricultures. Jesus spoke in a parable that they could all
relate to. And what does he say? He tells a story about a farmer
scattering seed. Some seed falls on the path, where the birds eat it.
Some fall on rocky ground, where it springs up quickly but withers in
the heat because it has no root. Some fall among thorns, and the thorns
choke it. And some fall on good soil and bring forth grain, “some a
hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.” Then Jesus explains: the seed is
the word of the kingdom. The different soils are different ways people
receive that word.
At first glance, this parable seems to be about success and failure.
Which people “get it,” and which do not. Which people are faithful, and
which are not. Which lives bear fruit, and which do not. But if we stop
there, we may miss what the parable is actually about. Because the first
surprising thing in this story is not the soil. It is the sower. The sower is
really over the top. Almost reckless. He scatters seed everywhere — on
the path, on rocky ground, among thorns, and on good soil. He does not
think carefully. He does not withhold it from unpromising places. He
does not say, “Let me save my seed only for the most deserving ground.”
He simply sows. And that is how God is.
God is lavish with grace. God scatters mercy freely. God plants
truth, hope, warning, comfort, and invitation all over the place. God does
not wait until our hearts are perfect before speaking to us. God speaks to
us when we are distracted, when we are wounded, when we are shallow,
when we are anxious, and when we are ready. The seed falls everywhere
because God does not give up on anyone. That is good news. Because if
we are honest, most of us have been in every kind of soil at one time or
another. The word lands on us, but it does not sink in. We hear Scripture
read in church, but once we get home we might have forgotten it. We
hear a call to forgiveness, but our resentment is stronger. We hear the
invitation to trust God, but fear snatches it away before it can settle into
us. Some hearts become like a path because they have been walked on
too long. Life can harden us. Disappointment can harden us. Mistrust
can harden us. Repeated grief can pack the soil down until nothing can
soften the ground for the seed to grow. And yet even there, the sower
still sows.
Sometimes we are on rocky ground.We receive the word with joy.
We feel inspired. We are moved. We make big promises. We start to say
things like “This time I’m really going to pray.” “This time I’m going to
change.” “This time I’m going to follow Jesus more closely.” But then
trouble comes. Criticism comes. Doubt comes. Suffering comes. And
what began with enthusiasm fades because it was never rooted deeply
enough to endure heat. Many of us know this experience. We want the
comfort of faith, but not always the cost of discipleship. We want
resurrection, but not the long road through Good Friday. We want
spiritual growth, but we do not always want to be dug up, watered,
pruned, and changed. And still, the sower keeps sowing.
Sometimes we are thorny ground. We live in an age of constant
worry and constant distraction. We are choked by schedules,
notifications, comparison, ambition, exhaustion, and fear. The thorns do
not always look evil. Sometimes they have beautiful roses attached to
them. And that’s what makes them dangerous. They may look like
responsibility, success, productivity, or security. But when these things
crowd out the life of God in us, they choke the word before it can bear
fruit. And yet even there, the sower has not stopped sowing.
And finally there is good soil. Let me be the first to say good soil is
not perfect soil. It is soil that needs love and attention. Soil that needs
nourishments and patients. Soil that is willing to be broken open so that
life can enter in. Jesus says this is the one who hears the word and
understands it, and who indeed bears fruit. Notice here that the goal is
not simply hearing. It is fruitfulness.
The Christian life is not measured only by what we know, or even
by what we feel. It is measured by the fruit that grows from God’s word
alive in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness,
gentleness, and self-control. It is measured by compassion for the
vulnerable, truthfulness in speech, forgiveness in relationships, courage
in witness, and perseverance in hope. So the parable asks us a searching
question: What kind of soil are we today? What kind of soil are you
planting at home, at work or in your social groups?
This parable is not meant to trap us in shame. It is meant to
awaken us to self-examination and hope. Soil can change. Hardened
ground can be broken up. Rocks can be cleared. Thorns can be cut back.
Fields can be tended. By the grace of God, our hearts can be cultivated
and changed. This means spiritual growth is not magic. It requires
cooperation with grace. Farmers do not create life, but they do prepare
the ground. In the same way, we cannot force God’s kingdom to grow in
us, but we can make room for it. We can pray regularly, even when
prayer feels dry. We can read Scripture slowly, listening for one word
that takes root. We can worship faithfully, letting the liturgy shape us
over time. We can confess our sins honestly, so that the soil is loosened.
We can simplify our lives, so that the thorns do not choke us. We can
stay with Jesus in hard seasons, so our roots go deep. And we need to
remember that growing seeds takes time.
No farmer stands over a field demanding instant harvest. Growth is
often hidden before it becomes visible. So too is spiritual life with
Christ. There are seasons when we do not feel like our seeds are
growing. There are seasons when we feel buried rather than planted.
There are seasons when God seems silent. But buried seed is not dead
seed. Under the surface, God may be doing a quiet work we cannot yet
see. That matters for those of us who feel discouraged. Some of you may
feel like your life has been more thorn than fruit lately. Some may feel
spiritually dry. Some may feel that the word once burned brightly in you,
but now you are weary. Some may wonder whether anything good can
still grow in the field of your life.
Hear the good news: the sower has not given up on you. God is
still scattering seeds. Still speaking. Still calling. Still watering. Still
waiting with holy patience for a harvest you may not yet be able to
imagine. So let us not despair over the places in us that are hard, rocky,
or thorny. Let us bring them honestly to God. Let us ask the Holy Spirit
to water the soil of our hearts. Let us trust the generosity of the sower.
This parable is not merely about failure. It is about possibility. Holy
possibility. The possibility that God can grow something beautiful in us.
The possibility that even now the kingdom is being planted. And that all
of us are the seeds that will grow in God’s Kingdom forever. Amen
Year A – The Seventh Sunday After Pentecost – July 12, 2026 – The Rev. Mark Colbert
