Bearing Fruit Means Tending to Soil

Mrs. Albritton was my second grade teacher. In her classroom stood, what seemed to me, a giant “apple tree.” Of course, on that tree no real apples hung, but instead red, laminated, cardboard paper apples dangled from brown yarn. Whenever Mrs. Albritton saw one of her students do something kind, studious, or otherwise noteworthy she would give out an apple. If a student received three apples she or he could pick out a small prize, if a student received four apples a slightly larger prize, and if a student was so bold as to receive five apples the really big prizes came out.

One particular afternoon I was on the verge of history in Mrs. Albritton’s class. I cannot recall the exact circumstances, but suffice it to say I had been “on fire,” achieving five apples already before heading to recess. Now on the way back to the classroom from some time on the playground I managed to do some deed of kindness that merited Mrs. Albritton giving me an unprecedented sixth apple. Some people in my class gave me a snide glare, but for the most part my classmates gave me high fives. Mrs. Albritton almost did not know what she had done handing out that illusive sixth apple.

While I cannot recall exactly what I did to achieve all those apples and I could not tell you what sort of prize a student gets when managing to pick all those cardboard trophies from the tree, I do know that even way back then I was obsessed with achieving fruit. Not actual fruit, although I love blueberries, strawberries, and the occasional apple, but rather, I have always been one to seek with verve and vigor results that all can see. But what happens when I do not produce the fruit? What if a bird swoops in to steal away the seeds, what if the sun scorches my attempts, or what if I get caught up in the weeds? I mean can I really help the soil in which I am planted?

So often I misinterpret this parable from Jesus. I mistakenly believe that we are the seeds being planted. I have even got into fights with friends defending those “planted in the rougher soil.” Yet the more I hear this enigmatic tale of God’s gardening, the more I realize that I am not the seed. I am the one receiving the seed.

During my time at seminary we began a community garden initiative, much like what has happened here at St. John’s. All students were given a composting box within which they could put certain biodegradable material and later take it to our communal composting pile. This process always fascinated me. I did not like to do it because it reeked something awful, but going and seeing the various piles at different stages of being turned into topsoil amazed me. One pile not very far along still possessed visible chunks of pasta, banana peels, and avocado skins. The next heap, broken down by natural degradation carried a brownish hue. Finally the almost “ready” compost sat with a rich blackness about it. In the colder months the piles would steam from the chemical breakdown that occurred.

Perhaps we might see Jesus’ parable of the sower and the soil through the lens of community gardeners who anxiously await the day when the soil will be ready. At times in our lives the Sower (Our God) might be sharing the seed with us only to have us too busy or too consumed with our day to day tasks to understand His Word. Other times something evil crops up in our lives and even if the soil appears ready we are distracted by a sin that takes us from God.

The soil of our hearts needs time to break down, to become ready so that we can faithfully receive the seed of God’s word. Even if we are obsessed with bearing fruit, like a second grader seeking affirmation through cardboard apples, the environment of our souls might not be in the right season for planting seeds. The good news is that our faithful sower will continue to spread shower His Word upon our lives. God will perpetually scatter his seeds. Let us tend to our soil, so that we might receive God and allow God’s word to grow in us bearing fruit thirty, sixty, and a hundred fold.