Sermons from Lyndale
The truth is, I recognize a bit of myself in all the soils. Because I have been the hardened path, toughened over time from feeling trampled on, dismissed, violated, walked over. I’ve felt small seeds of joy, love, hope and faith being snatched away as I’ve experienced loss, grief, doubt. I’ve felt my faith spring up only to have it falter under the endless questions and paradoxes. Some days it feels scorched by the oppressive heat of life and the systems of injustice that continue to kill and threaten the most vulnerable. I’ve fallen among thorns and brambles- caught in pain or fear or worry with little room to stretch and grow. Church, I am all of these soils. Sometimes in the course of a single day. I’m guessing some of you have felt that way too.
Our incomparable generation was and is “like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’”.