Theological Question - Am I Understanding This?

The following post is a conversation over email. It starts off with a question, then some replies, then the conclusion from the original person who posed the question.

>> Question
Gentlemen,
I was reading Matthew this morning, this passage in particular:
The Parable of the Sower Explained:

Matthew 13:18-23: "Hear then the parable of the sower: When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart. This is what was sown along the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away.As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it. He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty."

In verse 19, Jesus says that “anyone who hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart.” In effect, the hearer who simply doesn’t understand loses his chance at being a fruit-bearing Christian, and we know what happens to people who don’t bear fruit – they’re cut off and thrown in the fire (Matthew 3:10).

So, is the Kingdom of Heaven so exclusive that it doesn’t allow people in who lack understanding? Does a person who has hours per day to study and meditate on Scripture have privilege over the person who has 3 kids and 2 jobs and simply doesn’t have time to develop a thorough understanding? Or the person who wasn’t raised to “think deep” about things?

I know in my own life, quite often really, I don’t understand Scripture beyond the literal meaning of the story. I know there is something beyond my grasp, and I might ponder it for days, but I still have no further comprehension. Is the evil one snatching bits of the kingdom from my heart, and am I in danger of being poor soil and lacking fruit?

Seth

>> Reply from Joey
In the passage, after Jesus tells the famously accessible parable, no one understood the parable except Jesus himself. Not even his buddies the disciples got it. So does that mean Jesus chose bad soil when he picked those dudes? Does that mean
His disciples were going to get the "seed" snatched away? Nope. The only reason the disciples got the picture was because they asked Jesus what the parable meant. They became good soil by listening to the voice of God.

When we encounter scripture, the only way for us to receive the seed of scripture and thereby be "good soil" is when we ask God what He is saying to us. When we read Scripture and don't meditate on it or ask questions or even give another thought about it, basically we are being bad soil at that time. It's when God whispers what He is saying to us through the Scripture.
Then, we grasp it all at once and revelation occurs.

So good soil is the person who hears (or reads) Scripture, and then asks God to reveal. And bad soil is the person who hears (or reads) Scripture, and doesn't ask God anything or even give it a thought.

Being good soil is about being dependent on God.

Joey

>> Reply from Chris
This parable is scary no matter how you look at it. The way you're looking at it, Seth, seems like we need to be a whole lot smarter and diligent. The other way is that our understanding is completely dependent on God. I go with the latter--the scary Calvinist way. For me 2 Cor. 3:14-18 is instructive in a matter like this. Basically, Paul argues that those who accept Christ must have their hearts unveiled (notice that the veiling of the heart is in relation to Moses being read, in other words, the situation is similar, in that the word goes out and people are able to percieve or not based on their veiling).

So this begs more questions. How does a heart become unveiled? Can we unveil our own hearts? I don't think we can since Paul is basically saying our hearts are blind, which is just another way of saying they are dead, which is what Paul says in Rom. 3--no one seeks God. Now if that is literally true, that no one seeks God, how does anyone come to seek God? God Himself must unveil our hearts. Then we aren't blind anymore and we can see ourselves for who we are and God for who He is. Hence, 2 Cor. 3:18--when our faces are unveiled we are transformed because we see God.

Also, the seed in the Parable could just as well be the proclaimed, spoken message of the Gospel, rather than the written word. In that context think about the state of your soil during any number of sermons. There are days when your soil is is receptive and other days when you are a rocky path at best. Either way, spoken or written word, there is a heavy emphasis in the New Testament on God's perogative in this matter. Jesus himself says that no man comes to him unless the Father draws him.

Of course, my answer only addresses the two extreme types of soil, not the middle ones, which are the most terrifying.

Chris

>> Reply from Bryce
I agree with Joey on this one. I think meditation is the key.

I think in some ways we have a measure of control over the state of our own hearts. While I do think God can harden and soften the heart (i.e. Pharaoh), I believe that we choose response and acceptance.

No soil, even sand, stays soft and fertile over time. It requires the right measure of elements and personal attention to remain fertile and soft. I think that Christ through the Holy Spirit is the initiator of the process. But I think we, like good farmers, must continually tend, weed, and till our soil. I also think that God brings elements such as good and bad weather in our lives that depending on our response and reception will help us remain soft.

Remember Romans 1...God chose the simple to confound the wise...

Let us not think of ourselves more highly than we ought.

We are all bad soil. Thanks be to Jesus that He even tried to sow His seed in us.

Bryce

>> Final Conclusion
I think the scary part about this dilemma for me was the fact that poor soil does not bear fruit, and like I suggested in the original question, things that don't bear fruit get cut off and thrown in the fire. Would my lack of understanding, like my inherent inability to understand college level algebra, keep me from bearing fruit?

The thing that settled it for me, especially in light of Bryce's final statement, is this verse: Matthew 3:8-10 "Bear fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father,' for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."

John the Baptist is the speaker, and he is reaming a group of Pharisees and Sadducees. He's basically saying, "Don't consider yourself anything special, you are, but for the grace and favor of God, no better than these stones. But if you keep an attitude of repentance, like Bryce said, "Thanks be to Jesus that He even tried to sow His seed in us," then you will bear fruit. Realizing our poor soil composition, and asking for God's mercy, does in fact make us good soil. Of course, that realization requires a decent amount of thought concerning our constant shortcomings and depravity.

Folksy Wisdom
I got married a little over a year ago, and when we moved into our house, my first big project as a husband was to fix the yard up and plant a flower garden. It was pretty exciting when the spring rolled around and the grass started to green up. I went and bought fertilizer and a new lawn mower and set up a multi-year plan of establishing a beautiful landscape. I really do think that men were made to cultivate things. Early on it may have been crops and herds, but that has evolved into business and even relationships, and in this case an attitude of repentance. It's a constant and daily discipline to take out the weeds, water the crop, feed the crop, and eventually harvest. Funny thing about harvest is all the fruit - it feeds you, it feeds the people around you, and it has a bunch of seeds in it so you can plant another crop.

Seth

Nobody lost their faith, or even had a serious crisis; there are just questions that arise during the course of your life that need to be addressed. The first truth from which you go about answering the question always has to be "God is love." Everything else falls into place after that.

Go Broke Quick (And Amused) Schemes #1

By Seth
Follow your childhood dream of buying your own plot of land and living quietly in the countryside while you live off of the revenue generated by your farm crops. Start small with:
1. 25 acres ($25,000)2. A small used tractor (1987 John Deere, 140-hp = $44,500),
3. A plow ($20,000),
4. A drill for planting ($30,000),
5. 200 gallons of diesel to fuel the tractor for a season ($600),
6. A custom-harvest crew to cut and haul your crop to market ($500 - $700).

Then collect your check from the grain co-op ($4,660 for a good wheat crop on 25 acres). Revel in the fact that you just lost about $115,000 following your childhood dream.

My Musical Heritage

by Christopher Myers
A List With Stories

1. "You Can Call Me Al", Paul Simon—My dad likes to randomly sing lyrics from songs. He’ll grab my elbow and sing whatever tune has just popped into his head. When I was growing up, it was usually a Billy Joel song. One of his favorites, though, was from this song, particularly the line “roly-poly little bat faced girl.” But what I really remember about this song is dancing around the living room when the trumpet solo started.

2. "Johnnie Be Good", from Back to the Future—This scene in BTTF is a pivotal moment for me because when I saw it I knew that I would some day play guitar and that I would own a cherry-red Gibson ES-335. I still haven’t gotten the guitar, but I at least play a guitar. When I see this scene I like to think that Michael J. Fox is really playing.

3. "Goodnight, Saigon", Billy Joel—We were once at a restaurant, All the Fixin’s. We went there a lot because they had a $0.99 kid’s menu. One night I decided to listen to my Walkman before we ordered, and for whatever reason my parents let me do it. I was listening to a Billy Joel greatest hits album. The waiter pointed out to me that they had music in the restaurant that I could listen to, and he asked me what music I liked. I said Billy Joel without hesitation. I was 10 years old. The song I remember loving was this, and it’s about Vietnam. I think I just liked the way his voice echoed when he sang “sharp as knives.” "Uptown Girl" was another song my dad liked to sing random lyrics from.

4. "Hotel California", The Eagles—There may not be a better story song that makes no real sense in the history of music. I like the part about steely knives. I must have had a real thing for knives. Now that I think about it, the main thing I used the burner in my chemistry set for was to blacken the blade of my Rambo knife.

5. "Highway to the Danger Zone", Kenny Lofton—I’ve seen Top Gun more than I’ve seen any other movie ever. There isn’t even a close second. And I’m not embarrassed at all. In fact, I recently re-watched it, and I’ve been quoting it to my friends ever since. When aren’t you daily in a situation where you can legitimately say to someone that they’ve “lost the edge?”

6. "Secret Ambition", Michael W. Smith—W. will always mean Michael for me and not George. This song is a stand-in for any dozens of his songs that I loved. I owned all of his records and the first recording I ever did was myself singing "Kentucky Rose" into my tape deck.

7. "Love is a Verb", DC Talk—Outside of DC Talk I didn’t even know rap existed. I was pretty sure that they invented it. In any case, this is the first song I thought of off of Free at Last, so here it is on the list. Is there anything stranger than a rap group teaching kids grammar and parts of speech?

8. "Flood", Jars of Clay—In early high school a Beatle-esque CCM band called PFR played a concert at my church. I don’t remember anything about their set, I just remember that Jars opened and that upon leaving I was given a tape previewing their first record. The tape had a 30-second sample of "Flood" on it and I must have listened to that clip around 100 times before their album came out. Sometimes I marvel at the musical OCD of my younger days. By this point I actually was learning guitar, and I had to have a Taylor just like the guys in Jars. I also bought a few unflattering hats because the guys in Jars wore them. Those hats represent some of the worst decisions I have ever made.

9. "Norwegian Wood", The Beatles—My best friend Jonathan was a Beatles freak and he learned this song on guitar, sitar solo and all. As a consequence, this is the only Beatles song that I know how to play all the way through. I always tell myself that I should learn more Beatles songs, convinced that they will make me a better player, since they invented so much of what we know as popular music. This is one of my many theories that I’ve never actually tested.

10. "Shine", Collective Soul—When my mom would run into a store, I would ask to sit in the car, and I would turn the radio station to Rock 108. This is how I was exposed to grunge music. During one listening session in the car, I heard this song. I remember it sounding like the heaviest thing I have ever heard, and that’s coming from someone who had been raised on a steady diet of Petra. In retrospect it is ridiculous that anyone would describe Collective Soul as heavy, even if they have a song called that. The opening riff is still one of my favorite things to play on guitar, though I’m pretty sure the solo doesn’t really fit at all. Go back and listen. You’ll see.

11. "#41", Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds, Live at Luther College—Whenever my iPod shuffles to a DMB song these days, I invariably skip it, unless it is a song from this album. I was into acoustic guitar from Jars of Clay, but when I listened to this I thought, “You can do more than strum it?” Plus, #41 has a great melody. Trust me it does. Even if Dave sounds like his vocal chords are actually in his nose.

12. "One Headlight", The Wallflowers—Here is another song and group that inspired a bad hat purchase. In this case it was an old man’s dress hat, a la Jacob Dylan in the liner notes of Bringing Down the Horse. I eventually bought a telecaster because of this video, which was a good purchase inspired by music. This song and album probably single handedly got me off of grunge music.

13. "Airbag", Radiohead—There are two reactions to Radiohead. The first is, “This is music?” The second happens when you hear other music after listening to Radiohead and you think, “This is music?” I imagine that hearing Sgt. Pepper for the first time had the same effect.

14. "Slower", Mineral—Before emo went pop, there was real emo. And I loved it. My friend Jay would loan me emo CDs that he’d ordered from crappy, black and white zines. Mineral was one of those bands. I can’t recommend them now, because the guy can’t sing. But I remember loving this lyric: “I would gladly trade a lifetime of convenience for an honest day or two.” And that was before I even knew what Romanticism was or what carpe diem meant. I was an earnest kid.

15. "Judas Skin", Vigilantes of Love—Horrible band name…amazing band. I saw these guys the first time I went to Cornerstone, a Christian music festival in the middle of a cornfield in Illinois. I didn’t know their music but I remember he closed with this song, and I remember thinking then that I’d never heard Christian music that was so like the Psalms or so honest about not having it all together. As another example of my musical OCD, I will say that over the course of the year after I saw them, I acquired 10 of the 13 VOL albums.

16. "Round Here", Counting Crows—Best opening lyrics to a song ever. Plus, these guys are the modern day realization of the California country I grew up listening to (The Eagles, Jackson Brown). August and Everything After may be my favorite album.

17. "Come Pick Me Up", Ryan Adams (via a Counting Crows concert)—In retrospect I can say this: Never go to a concert with a girl you’ve just broken up with, even if you bought the tickets while you were still together, and especially if the band had sentimental weight in the relationship itself. As terrible as that weekend ended up being (a cat died on the drive back), I can’t regret going though it because in the middle of "Round Here," Adam Duritz started singing the lyrics to "Come Pick Me Up." I remember saying out loud, “What song is that?” because the lyrics were killing me, and a lady turned around and drunkenly said, “Come Pick Me Up, Ryan Adams.” When I got home I found some Ryan Adams, and I’ve been in love with his music ever since.

18. "Latter Days", Over the Rhine—I saw them the second time I went to Cornerstone at midnight on the fourth of July. The concert was easily one of the best I’ve ever seen, and I hardly knew any of their music. About three in morning, when we were driving back to the dorm we were staying in, I popped in their album, Good Dog, Bad Dog. As soon as the song started, the whole car went silent. The piano chords grabbed us right by the throat. Then she started singing—What a beautiful piece of heartache this has all turned out to be. I was in my twenties by then, and I knew she was right.

19. "Street Lights", Josh Rouse—I bought the record Nashville about a week before I moved to NYC. The record was about saying goodbye to one place and embracing another one, so thematically I couldn’t have bought a better record. On the production level, this is a perfectly crafted pop song with a great melody and arrangement.

20. "Fix You", Coldplay—I remember standing in a subway station waiting on an F train in NYC. I was listening to this song and just as the song started to build with that three-note guitar riff , I felt the air start to move on my face from the approaching train and as the song climaxed the train was rushing by me. This is one of my top five NYC moments, when the whim of the city smiled on me and I felt a part of its beating heart. Obviously, there weren’t enough of those moments because I don’t live there any more.

I have another story related to this song. When I visited home I would go to church, and the videos always had cool music like this song, or Ryan Adams or Counting Crows. I would always wonder who was picking the music and would think that they were cool. When I moved back they all ended up being my friends. So this song is all about serendipity for me, even though it’s really about not getting what you want.

See other Musical Heritages.

Don’t Forget Your Consonants or Why I Sometimes Hate My Dreams

By Christopher Myers

This morning I woke up angry with my mother. Not my real mother—my dream- mother, and not my dream-mother, as in my ideal mother, but my mother in my dream. I was angry with her. But we’ll get to her in a minute. First, the dream itself. From what I can remember, I seemed to be in the balcony of a church. The balcony was more like the upper deck of a baseball stadium than a church because everyone on stage looked small. I don’t remember what was happening, but I do remember an organ playing, and not a “How Great Thou Art,” Baptist Church, pipe organ, but a whirling, rock and roll, Bob Dylan with the Band organ. So maybe it was a rock concert in a church, or a baseball stadium that felt like a church, or some other non-logical possibility that only exists in dream world. I’m not sure.

What I am sure of is that my mother was there and that she was sitting next to an odd looking man in the balcony. I have no problem pointing out how strange this man was because I have never met this man in my waking life, and as far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t even exist. (How’s that for some writerly solipsism?) He was bald but the hair he did have was scruffy and his smile went up too easy and fast like his gums were greased with something. My dream-self didn’t trust him. Plus, he had sweaty hands. I don’t know that he had sweaty hands, but my dream-self was pretty convinced that he did, considering that he kept them palm down on his thighs and made no effort to shake my hand. But my dream-mother looked like my real mother, so my dream-self never thought for a minute that sweaty-handed guy was my dream-father. My dream-self was relieved.

I started talking to my dream-mother, but I don’t remember what we discussed. I just know that I got angry, because she used the phrase, “Don’t forget your consonants,” not once but twice. The second time she said this my dream-self exploded and started into a tirade that I can pretty much sum up with the phrase, “I don’t seem to be speaking in vowels right now, do I?” After that my dream-self started to mock my dream mother with a stream of consonantless phrases. Then I woke up. Angry.

Now, has my real mother made a request of me that seemed at the time to be as ridiculous as not forgetting one’s consonants? Absolutely, and I got angry at those too, though I don’t remember being as vindictive as my dream-self. But that isn’t the point. The point is how in the world can I wake up angry with my real mother for something my dream-mother said? Or put another way, how can something fake make me feel something real?

The whole realm of entertainment is built on the premise that people can have real responses to fake things, and on that level I’m glad for it because I, like the rest of humanity, like to be entertained. But that makes me think about how silly entertainment seems when you think of it that way—engaging in something fake in order to feel something real. What if the only real feelings I have are all products of entertainment? Or more specifically, what if I only seek out feelings stimulated by fake things because, in some weird inversion, those fake things become more real to me than reality? The dangers of constant stimulation are many, but the greatest danger is that it feels so real. It is not wrong to be stirred up—we were meant to be passionate. The question is what stirs you up? As John Piper points out, you can tell a lot about a person by what they are passionate about: “To know a soul’s proportions you need to know its passions. The true dimensions of a soul are seen in its delights. Not what we dutifully will but what we passionately want reveals our excellence or evil.”

What does it say about my soul if its only delight is in the latest season of The Office or the next Batman movie? Mostly that my soul doesn’t have much dimension. And that’s scary. Our parents, it seems, were right about too much TV, but not for the reasons they thought—it doesn’t rot our brain. It trains our brain to feel constantly flooded with feeling and emotion so that if we watch too much of it the real world doesn’t feel like much of anything at all. But even I could muster up the courage and rid myself forever of the glowing tube, I’d still have my dreams to contend with.