A Guided Meditation: Choosing and Using the Unchoosable and Unusable

                                               Van Gogh's "The Sower," 1888
1 Samuel 15:34-16:13       

Mark 4: 26-34

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."

God’s ways are not our ways.  The full force of love breaks into this world when, for instance, the very least and last of eight sons of Jesse becomes the king (1 Samuel 15:34-16:13).  God’s way materializes before our eyes when a tiny seed becomes a large plant (Mark 4: 26-34).  God chooses the littlest, the lowliest, the least.  

If God were the team captain in a playground game of kickball, she would choose her team by passing over the biggest kid in the class and overlooking the fastest runner and being unimpressed by the most popular boy and caring nothing about who’s wearing the coolest running shoes.  Instead—if God were a ten-year-old choosing a kickball team on the playground--she would shout the name of Herman as her very first choice.  “Herman!” she’d yell as she’d wave that stunned and scrawny thing  to stand next to her.  Yes, Herman: the kid everyone else expected to be chosen last, the friendless oddball who just moved from Podunk, Mississippi.  And here’s the “kicker” to my kickball parable.  Although Herman, the runt of the playground, would look confused at first, and would stumble over his worn out tennis shoes to stand with the growing line of the misfits on the God Team, Herman would blossom into the MVP for his team, thanks to some excellent coaching by God. Like the tiny mustard seed.  Like little David, the shepherd boy.  Like Mary, the mother of Jesus.  Like Jesus.  Like you and me.  Herman would be walking proof that God’s greatness is made known in our weakness.

God chooses and uses the unchoosable and the unusable.  God even chooses and uses those who actually downright unwelcomed and unwanted.  God is like those artists who transform recycled old tires and tin cans into gorgeous sculptures. 

The problem with my kickball analogy is that it implies that God’s realm has an orderliness contradicted by our Gospel reading for today, the parable of the mustard seed.  The irony of that parable is lost on us if we’re not aware that the shrub produced by the mustard seed was an invasive weed.  The sower is planting the Middle Eastern equivalent of kudzu.  About the same time the Gospel of Mark was written, Pliny the Elder wrote in his Natural History that "mustard, [which] is extremely beneficial for the health, . . . grows entirely wild, though it is improved by being transplanted: but on the other hand when it has once been sown it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it, as the seed when it falls germinates at once."   

The realm of God that Jesus preached was being compared to the potentially health-enhancing and shade-producing mustard plant, but the mustard plant tends to take off and take over and then, well, who knows how the landscape might change?  The kingdom of God grows in just that way.  Health and healing may come from it. The wild birds will find shade in it.  Vulnerable creatures will be protected through it.  But something unpredictable and untamable might be set in motion.

Isn’t that what we fear about the realm of God?  I mean, it’s one thing to let Herman on the team.  We might even get to feeling patronizingly fond of him as sort of a mascot.  But surely you can’t build a whole team with a bunch of misfits.  Surely you don’t want to intentionally plant mustard seeds.  After all, the kingdom of God could threaten the borders and boundaries of the kingdoms of this world.   We’ll tolerate a bit of diversity —as long as the old guard remains in a clear majority.  But what if those other folks flourish here and outnumber us?   Surely no one actually plants mustard seeds, right?

Maybe they do.  In God’s kingdom.  Which shelters some and annoys the heck out of others.

Isn’t that what you’ve secretly feared about participating in or—for heaven’s sake—becoming a member of Open Table?  You came here first out of pure curiosity.  Then you started showing up once a month or so, a habit that seemed harmless enough.  You might have helped us host Family Promise one night and saw a little more about God’s kingdom there.  Before you knew what was happening, you started caring, deeply, about the beautifully varied people who are part of this little piece of God’s realm and about what they were doing.  Now you’re serving on the church council, a puzzlement to your friends and to you, too.  And although there’s something salubrious and sheltering about these churchy experiences, there’s also something subversive and invasive and unsettling.  As if the inner landscape of your life is getting rearranged.  As if some kind of spiritual kudzu is growing greenly in your life and reaching out its branching arms into the world around you.  The kingdom of God is like that.

With that creepy and comforting image of how God works in the world, let’s meditate on two aspects of Christian spirituality:

1)     Let us first consider our chosenness within God’s realm

2)     Let us next consider the wildness of God’s realm.

So try to recall a time when you were chosen to contribute lovingly somehow, somewhere.  Maybe someone saw in you something you had not yet seen in yourself.  Maybe someone noticed a quality within you that made you feel a bit more responsible for using that gift for good.  Maybe someone trusted you with a task that you executed well, or that you failed at but you learned from in the process.  Maybe someone chose you as friend.  Something as simple as that.  Think about that one specific occasion of chosenness.  Now ask yourself:  Where was God in that experience?   Did you perhaps experience God’s love in the relationship that developed or through the selflessness evoked in you when you allowed yourself to be used for love’s sake? 

Take a moment to give thanks for that particular occasion when you were chosen for good.  I know there are many such moments, but choose now one moment of chosenness.  Recall it with gratefulness.  Give thanks for being chosen for Love’s purposes.

. . .

Think next about what new opportunity is presenting itself to you.  Are your gifts, experiences, insights, and time being summoned to use here in our faith community?  You may not feel equipped for the job but are nevertheless feeling chosen for it.  You may feel you’re at an age when you don’t have much left to give any more, yet God chooses you again and again because the realm of God still has need of you.  Or you may feel you are too young to be used by God.  But children have special gifts God uses.  Remember the smallest is sometimes the very one God chooses.  Children and adults alike need time to consider what God might be preparing us to do in this world.  This is a question we should regularly take time to consider.  There may be a prophet Samuel coming to you with oil to tap you for lead out in some way.   And remember that in God’s realm, a movement of many can get started from a tiny seed.

 . . .

Let's also admit that sometimes it feels as if we've been chosen for a task that is unfair, that is too hard.  Although we may believe the Spirit of Love would never "choose" to bring suffering, it may still feel, at times, as if God has selected some people for tragedy or hardship.  We may never understand why pain or heartache enters our world, but we can continue to live in ways that trust that God's choice is always love.

So let us meditate now on God’s lovingly invasive spirit that can take root in our lives and spill out into the world.  If God’s greening love is rooted within you, where might others start seeing evidence of it in the world?  Picture sprouts of green leafing out in particular places in your life.  Where is that happening?   If God’s greening and growing love has taken root here in this community of faith, where are other places in our city the offshoots of that love are in evidence?  Picture your influence as mustard plants in and around our city.  Where would you like to see them start cropping up?  Where specifically can you extend God’s love and care, God’s shelter and healing?  Picture one of these specific places.

 . . .

And listen.  Your name is being chosen:  Susan.  George.  David.  Linda.  Chloe.  Bart.    You have been chosen:  Jerry. Ann.  Karen.  The kingdom of God is within you and within those like you: Peter.  Ryan.  Mattie.  God’s work begins like a seed planted in your imagination.  Listen,  Open Table.  You are the mustard seed of churches.  Small.  Seemingly insignificant.  Maybe a bit annoying to some folks.  But something is taking root here.  A new church has been planted.  God only knows what might develop!