Growing Seasons

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, July 16th, 2023:
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Matthew
13.1-9​

Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables.

“Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

In different seasons of my life, I’ve come across this passage and identified with it differently. In some seasons, often with the tenacity (and dare I say blind optimism) of youth, I was sure I was planted in good soil. Perhaps because I saw all around me that the plants I associated with had sprouted up beautifully, bearing rich, sweet, and hearty fruit. I must be a well-planted seed because when you’re in the spiritual equivalent of the Annapolis Valley surrounded by veteran Mcintosh trees, it’s easy to assume you’re growing into the same thing. A smug sense of certainty about the quality of my own soil led to seasons of spiritual neglect or at best some half-hearted tilling. Work smart, not hard. Over-working good soil can do more harm than good, right? Just soak in those nutrients in this good soil that was turning out so many good apples all around me.

The wake-up call came when those around me kept bearing beautiful, unblemished fruit and I turned out to be a withered, sour, little crab-apple tree. Not that you can’t make good out of a few crab-apples, but it was certainly not the fruit I expected or planned for.

In other seasons, my roots were too shallow. Lots of ideas and ministries popped up around me. I overcommitted when I didn’t have a deep enough relationship with Christ and when I wasn’t drinking deeply from the cup of grace the Spirit offered. Under the weight of all of my fruit, I could feel the little plant of my soul bend and threaten to crack. The winds of trials, which I could have endured with deep roots, shook the fruit off the vine, leaving me feeling spiritually barren.

Every time God planted anew in me, teaching me and guiding me, helping me to learn from my mistakes. Over time, I became a better farmer, keeping closer watch on my own soil, rather than focusing on that of others. I tried to focus less on the external appearance of fruitfulness and more on how deep my roots reached. My relationship with Christ should always have meant more than how many ministries, projects, and events I produced. By focusing on that relationship my fruits were fewer, but the ones I had were more substantial. Quality over quantity. And sharing the fruits grown in me through the working of the Spirit revived my spirit rather than leaving me feeling worn out and over-plucked.

With the wisdom of experience, I understand better that any soil can be good for the right farmer. The obstructive stones of sin can be plucked out. Nutrients can be added to enrich and help grow my fruit. I can grow deeper, stronger roots by seeking out the Living Water of the Spirit. And when I’m struggling and can’t find the way to do it myself, I can seek help from others who can help guide me back towards the loving hands of God.




Stéphanie Potter​

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