Work the Soil (Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23)

A few months ago, when it became apparent that all of us were going to be spending a lot more time at home, Ginger and I started working on our tiny backyard. At the time it was nothing but weeds, and holes dug by the dogs. 

But Ginger started levelling out the holes and getting rid of the weeds, and we purchased some nice chairs to sit in and a propane grill for cooking dinner on warm summer nights.

My contribution came when I moved a bunch of bricks around, laying them on the ground to create an expanded patio. This, in turn, exposed a long, narrow strip of dirt along our fence, which, I knew, would be a great spot to plant… something… but I didn’t know what.

So I asked around. 

When it comes to plants and gardening and landscaping, the two best people I know to ask for advice are my friend John and my Aunt Cindi. And they did not disappoint.

John had some excellent suggestions regarding which plants to plant, and in fact, it was his suggestion that helped us decide.

But first, before we planted, we had to follow Aunt Cindi’s advice. Because Aunt Cindi said that, before we did anything, we needed to prepare the soil.

“Work the soil,” she said. “That’s where it starts. Before you plant anything… start by digging down 18 inches and turn the soil. Then work in good compost. Fluff it up. This takes a lot of work and some time…”

Aunt Cindi referred to this process as “playing in the dirt.” She also said: “Don’t plant in a rush. It’s a process…” And finally, she repeated: “Always start with the soil.”

Aunt Cindi’s advice was good and helpful - and not just for the work Ginger and I did in our backyard. Her advice was also good and helpful for the work we all are invited to, as we hear and interpret today’s scripture reading.

Start with the soil…. 

Usually when I hear this parable, I start with the farmer, and the seed the farmer is planting. Maybe I do this because modern Bibles often title this parable “The Parable of the Farmer,” or, “The Parable of the Sower.” 

But when I hear Aunt Cindi’s advice: “Work the soil. That’s where it starts,” it makes me think that perhaps a better title is “The Parable of the Soil.”

Here's what happens if you make the mistake - as I did - of starting with the farmer and the seeds...

The seed represents the gospel. The Word. The truth. And if I start by focusing on the farmer and the seed, I end up picturing myself as the farmer scattering the seed; I see myself as the one in possession of the gospel. The word. The truth. I have what others need. I need to give it to them. They need to receive it.

Do you see the problem with reading the parable this way? It is a very privileged way of reading this parable. It is a way of reading scripture that leads to colonization and patronization and exploitation, because it assumes that I and I alone possess the truth, the word, the seed; and it assumes that other less fortunate, less enlightened, less civilized people than I are in need of the truth that I alone possess.

This way of reading scripture allows me to think of myself as superior, and to think of others as inferior. 

It’s a way of reading scripture that is completely lacking in humility. 

It’s a way of reading scripture that leads one to walk arrogantly, rather than walk humbly, with God.

It’s a way of reading scripture that can justify every atrocity imaginable; even genocide. 

Right? Because I have the seed, I know better, I am better. I can tell others what to do and how to behave...

That's what happens when you focus on the farmer and the seed. And when Christian leaders and institutions read scripture this way, the results are catastrophic. 

All the worst forms of colonization and oppression committed by Christian governments and Christian leaders throughout history have come from reading scripture this way. 

The crusades, the inquisition, the subjugation of indigenous people, the misguided missionary efforts of the 20th century… and so much more, are the result of thinking that we - and we alone - possess the truth, the gospel, the seed.

But, if we start with the soil, and work with the soil, we’ll find a good, alternative, more wholesome way of reading this scripture, a way of reading that will bear much good fruit.

To work with the soil, we have to humble ourselves... 

Working with the soil is not glorious work. Working with the soil, you get your hands dirty. Working with the soil brings you down to the ground.

And when it comes to Christian faith, that’s a much better place to start than someplace high and lofty and far removed from the dirt and the grime.

What if I’m the soil? Not the farmer with the seed… What if I’m the soil? What if I’m the dirt?

If I’m the soil, then that raises the question: How do I prepare the soil so that what is planted can grow, thrive, and produce good fruit?

How do I prepare the soil that is me? How do I prepare myself to receive the gospel, the Word, the truth? So that good fruit can spring forth from me?

What is it that can loosen me up - fluff up the soil, as Aunt Cindi said? What is the spiritual compost that I can add into my life that will help make me a more receptive, more nurturing place for the seed of truth to be planted? And what in me needs to be dug up and turned over? In other words, what habits, practices, and ways of thinking do I need to change, so that the seed can grow in me and produce good fruit?

Just wrestling with these questions is a good place to start. We’ve got our hands in the dirt now, we’ve humbled ourselves, and we’re seeking and searching for answers. 

That right there puts us in a good place already. It’s so much better to be wrestling with the questions than it is to assume you already know everything and have all the answers.

And we can pray about it. Prayer like Jesus described - prayer that is sincere, prayer that is humble - loosens the soil. As long as we’re not making showy prayers on street corners, using our prayers as a way to boast about how good we are - as long as we’re sincere and humble, then the very act of praying is how we work the soil, making it loose and soft and receptive.

Things like pride and arrogance harden the soil. They pack it down, like a well worn path. 

At one point in its history, Israel was prideful and arrogant. Israel thought it was better than all the other nations. Israel thought that it alone was blessed by God. 

God saw this, and God knew that Israel needed a lesson in humility. So God allowed Israel to be taken into captivity by the Babylonians.

This unimaginable calamity completely shocked Israel. In their arrogance, the people of Israel didn’t believe such a thing was possible. They believed that they alone had what was good. They alone had the seed. The gospel. The truth. 

But then it was all taken away.

The U.S. today is a lot like Israel was then. American exceptionalism has put us in the exact same position. It's all about lifting ourselves up, even if we have to trample down everyone else to make ourselves higher. 

We forget that every person - every person - is the image of God. 

We forget that we are called to humble ourselves, to love and serve and to be a blessing to others… 

And we have that same sense of invincibility that Israel had. Nothing bad can happen to America, which - by the way - is a name of a whole hemisphere that we’ve arrogantly appropriated for ourselves.

And we see way too many who believe that they are somehow better than others because of their skin color or their status in society; because of their nationality; their language; their sexuality or gender identity… and these ways of thinking are thorns that choke out the truth.

To get rid of those thorns, you must consider yourself no better than others. You must recognize the divine spark in them that mirrors the divine spark in you, uniting both of you as beloved children of God. 

There has never been a time when it’s more important to start with the soil than now. When you start down low, on the ground, with your hands in the dirt, you see the many others who are down there with you. You see the poor - the 140 million people living in poverty in this country.

Down there in the dirt, you see the effects of racism and white supremacy. And you notice that some soil is polluted, and the soil that is polluted is usually found in the neighborhoods where poor people live, or where people of color live.

Down there in the dirt, you see that people are dying because of the pollution, or dying because they can’t afford health insurance, or dying because the insurance they do have won’t approve the treatment they need, or dying because, for some reason, our country hasn’t been able to control this pandemic the way other countries have.

People who aren’t willing to get down in the dirt don’t see these things. They can afford to look away. They scatter their seeds on hard, rocky soil, like a president tossing paper towels to hurricane victims. It looks like they’re doing something, but it’s not going to do any good. It's not going to produce any fruit. Because they didn’t leave their place of privilege, and get down to the ground and work the soil.

In my prayers, I ask: How do I prepare the soil (that is me) so that what is planted (in me) can grow, thrive, and produce good fruit? How do I do that?

And in response, I hear a voice; a voice that says: He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what is required of you: Seek justice. Act with great love. And walk humbly with God. 

That's it. Micah 6:8. It's our mission statement. It's how we prepare the soil. 

Seek justice. Act with great love. And walk humbly with God. 

Sermon: "Everyone Has a Story" (Matthew 13:10-13)

Can I tell you a story?

I know that every white person has a blind spot when it comes to race. There are many stories we haven’t heard. And sometimes, it’s because we haven’t wanted to hear them. Sometimes, we’ve ignored those stories or shut our ears to them.

That’s our privilege. Our white privilege.

Once upon a time I took my family and some other youth on a camping trip. Some of you may remember me telling you this story, some years back. I think there were seven of us total on that trip, my family of four, and three other youth.

We made a reservation at a privately-owned campground near Santa Cruz. Our reservation specified a specific campsite, so when we pulled in, around dusk, I drove around slowly and cautiously, looking for the campsite that was ours. In fact, we were all looking, through the open windows of our two vehicles.

Finally we found it, and I went to the office to check in.

As I approached the office, the manager came storming out and started yelling at me. “This is a family campground!” he bellowed. “People bring their children here! We don’t need you racing through!”

I thought, “What the heck is wrong with this guy?” (That’s the edited version.) What the heck is wrong with this guy? I had driven extra-slowly through the campground as I looked for our campsite. I had no idea what he was so upset for.

Fuming, I went back to our campsite, where everyone else was waiting. I explained what had happened. “I just don’t get it,” I said.

But the youth who had joined us on our trip got it. Tough boys, all of them, I was surprised when they murmured, “It’s ok. Just forget about it.”

For a moment, I just I looked at them. I looked at their faces. One had the appearance of an Asian. Another had the appearance of an African-American. Their actual ethnic mix is more complicated than that, but that’s how they appeared.

And in that moment, they also had the look of defeat.

Oh. OH!

The campground manager wasn’t upset at how fast I was driving. He was just using that as a mask for his own racism. He couldn’t admit that he was racist, maybe not even to himself, but he could find some other reason to not like us.

For the first time in my life, I had had a taste of the racism and prejudice these boys had lived with nearly every day of their lives. For the first time in my life, I realized that I had my own blind spot when it came to race. For the first time in my life, I became aware of the privilege that all white people have and benefit from.

Until that point, I hadn’t known that part of the story.

Since then, I have tried hard to listen to the stories of others, especially the stories of those whose experiences differ significantly from mine. I listen, because the stories each of us have contain great truth. I listen, and I try my best to understand, because I know there is still so much that I do not understand. There are people in my own family whose stories I do not know, not to mention people in my church, people in my community, people in my nation, and people all over the world.

Jesus talked in stories. Many of his stories were parables, but they were always rooted in truth. Stories help us understand. In fact, if we judge someone without listening to their story; if we judge someone without trying to understand… that’s prejudice. That’s judging without knowing.

And a lot of people are doing that today.

I recently commented about the situation concerning NFL players who kneel during the national anthem. I said we need to listen to their stories. But a friend of mine who disagrees with me on this said, “there’s nothing to listen to. It’s all fabricated drama.”

He wouldn’t even listen to their story. He was eager to judge, but not to listen.

That is prejudice. That is white privilege. White people don’t need to listen to these stories, we are free to make judgments, because the stories don’t directly affect people like us...

Except that they do. They do affect people like us. They affect all of us. But if we don’t listen to the stories, we’ll never understand that.

Listen to the stories. Why are NFL players protesting? To get us to listen to the stories, the stories of people with names like Michael Brown and Philando Castile and Trayvon Martin and Tamir Rice and Freddie Gray and Walter Scott and Christian Taylor and Ezell Ford and Sandra Bland and Anthony Lamar Smith. Have you heard their stories? Do you know their stories? Maybe we don’t want to hear their stories, but we need to.

Listen to the stories. We have some amazing stories in our congregation. Some of them are happy, hopeful stories. Some tell of longing or hardship. We have people here who have come from all over the world. We have people who have experienced lives that are very different from one another.

And yet, at this table, we are all one. We are ALL one. That is also part of our story. All of our stories intertwine into one. All of our stories connect. They help us understand one another better. They help us understand our society better. They help us understand the gospel better.

That’s a big part of the reason we at BKCC are here: to listen to - and tell - stories.

The disciples asked Jesus why he told stories, why he spoke in parables. Jesus responded by saying people have a hard time understanding. They see but they do not perceive. They hear but they do not listen.

But with a story, just maybe, the gospel truth will be revealed.

Sermon: "Seeds & Yeast? Really?" (Matthew 13:31-33, 44-48)

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field.”

I have seen mustard growing on the hills of southern California. Mustard grows everywhere. I saw it last week in Malibu. In spring and early summer, mustard flowers turn entire hillsides yellow.

Mustard is not native to California. But no one really took and intentionally sowed the seeds that grew into these plants. Mustard spreads easily and quickly. It chokes out native plants. It’s wild. It’s a nuisance. A weed.

More than once I’ve volunteered with various environmental groups to pull out mustard from wilderness areas so native plants have a chance to grow.

For someone from California who likes nature, a mustard seed is a strange thing to compare the kingdom of heaven to.

Of course, Jesus was talking about cultivated mustard plants… mustard plants that someone would grow in their garden. They’re not really all that different, though.

A mustard seed is small. Technically it’s not the smallest seed; some orchid seeds are so small that they are like dust; they float away on a breeze. But perhaps mustard seeds are the smallest seeds that a first century person would recognize as being a seed.

And, like I said, mustard seeds do grow easily. But they don’t grow into trees. They don’t get very big. The biggest types of mustard plants - I’ve never seen them get this big, I’ve only heard - do get woody and can grow higher than your head, but calling them a tree is quite generous.

The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed… Don’t you wonder if the people listening to Jesus describe the kingdom of heaven thought to themselves, “A mustard seed? Is that the best you could do?”

The cedar trees that grow in Lebanon - they have small seeds. Not as small as mustard seeds, but look at what magnificent trees they grow into! Wouldn’t that have made a better comparison? Better than… mustard?

A lot of preachers over the years have tried to figure out a way to make the mustard seed parable more than it is. They might clarify what Jesus meant, saying that mustard is the largest garden plant. They try to work their way around the disappointing truth, that mustard plants just really aren’t all that impressive.

Why would Jesus compare the kingdom of heaven to a mustard seed?

Jesus tells another parable about the kingdom of heaven:

“The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

Yeast is another interesting metaphor. Amy Jill-Levine - who I’m happy to say is the featured speaker at next year’s Founder’s Day at Chapman - has written about biblical yeast metaphors.

She mentions another occasion in which Jesus used yeast as a metaphor. He told his disciples to “beware the yeast of the Pharisees.”

The apostle Paul also used yeast as a metaphor; to a group of Christians who tended to boast and brag, Paul said: “Be careful. Your boasting is not good. A little bit of boasting can destroy an entire community. Don’t you know that a little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough?”

Neither of these two comparisons refer to yeast positively. Yeast is negative. According to Amy Jill-Levine, biblical metaphors using yeast present it like the one bad apple that can spoil the whole bunch. In making bread, yeast obviously has a positive effect, but as a metaphor in the Bible, it’s most often used negatively, as a bad example.

But Jesus uses it to describe the kingdom of heaven.

I’m sure that those who were there and who heard Jesus describe the kingdom of heaven as yeast or as a mustard seed were not impressed. If someone asked you to describe the kingdom of heaven, would you say it’s like yeast? Would you say it’s like the seed of a weedy shrub?

But for Jesus, mustard seeds and yeast were the perfect metaphors for the kingdom of heaven. In every parable, there is a challenge to one’s way of thinking. And obviously, we are being challenged here. It’s hard for us to think of mustard seeds or yeast as something to which the kingdom of heaven can be compared.

But parables challenge our way of understanding things. Parables always present what we do not expect. For this very reason, parables are not easy. If you don’t find some challenge, some discomfort, in the parable, then you haven’t understood it properly.

The challenge for us is to see the kingdom of heaven in mustard seeds and in yeast, two things that are not all that impressive, two things that are so very common, two things that could be found in any garden or kitchen…

Our first instinct is to look far away for the kingdom of heaven. Our first instinct is to look for great, inaccessible magnificence. Surely heaven cannot be so close to us as the seeds we plant in our garden or the yeast we use in our kitchen!

Yet that is the challenge: to seek and find the kingdom where we are, in what is common, everyday, at-hand.

The kingdom is not in a grand cedar tree in a far away land. Is that where you are looking for the kingdom of heaven? Someplace far away where the grass is greener or where the streets are paved with gold?

Because that’s not where you’ll find the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom of heaven is all around you. It is present. It is where you are. In your garden. In your kitchen.

And I think that when Jesus called the mustard plant a “great tree,” he was speaking tongue-in-cheek. People were expecting him to describe the kingdom of heaven as something great and magnificent. They were anticipating something big.

But Jesus says, “Ladies and gentlemen, you want to know what the kingdom of heaven is like, what God’s kingdom is like? You want to know what the kingdom of the almighty God, the creator of the universe is like? Well, the kingdom of heaven is like - brace yourselves! - it’s like a mighty mustard shrub!”

He’s having a bit of fun, playing with people’s expectations! Don’t you think?

The point is, when it comes to the kingdom, don’t go looking for greatness. To find greatness in the kingdom of heaven, you need to think small.

Don’t think you need to go somewhere far away. The kingdom is right where you are. It’s in your kitchen. It’s in your garden. It’s in your neighborhood, it’s on your block. That’s where the kingdom is.

The last time I preached, I told you about working in the mud in Hawaii, harvesting kalo (which is what the Hawaiians call taro root).

Before we went out into the field to work, we had a brief orientation session.

The orientation took place under a tarp canopy. We joined the interns who were spending their summer on the farm. We sat on old, rustic wooden benches. To be honest, this did not look like a place where I would find the kingdom of heaven.

We were welcomed by a man who introduced himself to us as Uncle Dean. He stood before us with no shirt on, and with shorts that looked like they were made from the mud in the fields.

I thought, “What are we doing here? What, exactly, did we get ourselves into?” At this point I certainly was not expecting to experience the kingdom of heaven. Not in this place. Hawaii may be paradise, but that paradise must be at the beach resorts in Waikiki, not in this muddy place. That’s what I thought, but I was wrong.

We went around and introduced ourselves, and then Uncle Dean gave us his mana’o okala, his thought for the day. And since you probably can’t read what it says on the whiteboard in the photo, I’ll tell you that the thought for the day was “ma ka hana ka ike” -- “through doing, one learns.”

Uncle Dean talked about what that means, and the very moment he started speaking, I realized how wrong I had been. He spoke with incredible wisdom! I quickly opened up my daypack and grabbed my notebook and pen and began taking notes.

It was that good.

Uncle Dean talked about how people work. Not just the work they do, but their attitude doing their work. “When you do the dishes,” he said, “do them well. Focus your mind on your work. Whatever work you are doing, whether it’s harvesting kalo or doing the dishes, give your work the attention it deserves.”

Uncle Dean’s talk reminded me of Brother Lawrence. Brother Lawrence was part of a Carmelite monastery in France in the 17th century.

Brother Lawrence lacked the education to become a cleric, so he worked in the kitchen. And there, he made washing the pots and pans a spiritual practice. He was present in his task. He saw his work as sacred. And the profound sense of peace people felt around him led visitors to come to him seeking spiritual guidance.

Yes, they came seeking spiritual guidance and wisdom from the dishwasher.

After Brother Lawrence died in 1691, letters that he wrote and records of conversations he had were compiled into a book, which was given the title, The Practice of the Presence of God. In his work - in washing the dishes, mopping the floor - in all his chores - Brother Lawrence found God. In doing this work, he found the kingdom of God, the kingdom of heaven.

I didn’t ask Uncle Dean if he had read Brother Lawrence. But I do know that, after Uncle Dean finished with his thought for the day and we went out into the mud to work, we found God. We found the kingdom of heaven.

We found the kingdom of heaven in the work we were doing - work which was done in traditional ways, connecting us to people who lived centuries before us.

We found the kingdom of heaven in conversations we had with the interns who worked alongside us. Many of them are at-risk youth and young adults who have had challenging lives, but who have found meaning and purpose and a connection to their culture by working in the kalo lo’i. In talking to them, we learned about their culture and background, and they learned about ours.

We found the kingdom of heaven in our own development as a group of travellers from across the ocean. I already told you how diverse we were, from different races and cultures, in a world where tensions between different races and cultures is in the news on a daily basis. But we overcame those tensions.

And one of the places where that happened was in the mud of the kalo lo’i. There, in the mud, we found the kingdom of heaven.

I think we have a hard time finding God’s kingdom because we’re looking for it in all the wrong places. We’re looking for a hundred or a thousand pearls, but it’s found in just one pearl. We’re looking for a treasure hidden in a field, and yes, we found treasure in that kalo field, but it wasn’t a treasure of gold or jewels or money. The treasure was in the mud itself, and in the community and the friendships that were formed when people willingly jump into chest-deep mud to work.

The treasure we seek - the kingdom of heaven - is found where you are. It’s on your block, it’s in your neighborhood.

It requires some work on your part, and some sacrifice. You can’t just sit back and wait for the kingdom to arrive. You have to plant the seed. You have to knead the dough.

And you’ve got to know which fish to keep and which fish to throw out. You’ve got to know what in your life is helping you find meaning, and what is a distraction. You need to know how to prioritize your life so that you are living a kingdom lifestyle.

And you need to let God do God’s work in your life.

The kingdom of heaven is indeed something great and sacred, but it is found among the mundane and the lowly. It’s found among the mustard and the yeast and the mud and the kalo.

So in every task you do, do it mindfully. Do it with purpose. Wash the dishes with intention. Be present. The kingdom of heaven is there, in your kitchen, in the dishwater. The kingdom of heaven is there, in your office, in your living room. The kingdom of heaven is there on the bus you take to work or school.

If you want to find the kingdom of heaven, that’s where you should be looking.

The Present Kingdom (Matthew 13)

A friend of mine refers to today as “Simile Sunday.” You know what a simile is, of course. “The kingdom of heaven is like this. The kingdom of heaven is like that… The kingdom is like a mustard seed. The kingdom is like yeast. The kingdom is like a hidden treasure. The kingdom is a pearl of great value.”


Similes. Parables.

Oh, there’s more: The kingdom is like a banquet. It’s like a party! It’s like a gathering in the wilderness with thousands of people and no food, except somehow, miraculously, everyone eats and is filled, with baskets of leftovers.

The kingdom is like a debtor who owed his master 10,000 talents, a huge fortune, and was forgiven his debt.

The kingdom is like a man going on a journey who was attacked and beaten and left for dead. Several of his own kinsfolk, leaders in his own community, passed by without even stopping to see if he was dead or alive; but a Samaritan, a member of an opposing tribe, a people who speak with accents and who practice a different sort of faith, stopped and offered aid, caring for the man, going above and beyond to make sure he was restored back to health.

Over and over again, Jesus described and presented the kingdom, each time in a different way. One would think that, after awhile, he’d get tired of the topic, and move on to something else. In Algebra we move on from 2x=4 to the quadratic formula. In science we move from simple observation to the study of quantum physics and dark matter. In grammar we move from nouns and verbs to prepositions and dangling participles.

But Jesus kept returning back to the same topic, over and over again: the kingdom of God – or, as Matthew likes to call it, the kingdom of heaven. Either his followers just didn’t get what he was talking about, or this was one really important lesson that they had to learn.

In fact, both are true. Many in the first century anticipated the coming kingdom of God, but what they had in mind was a military overthrow of the Roman Empire led by God’s own anointed one: the messiah. The kingdom as Jesus described it was an alternative to Rome, and yet it was very different from what most were expecting.

And it was very important. Jesus’ entire message is summed up in the scripture with this one sentence: “The kingdom of God is at hand.”

So Jesus taught what the kingdom was like. Then he did it again, in a slightly different way. And then, again, and again. Mustard seeds and yeast and hidden pearls and banquets.

And when Jesus taught his followers to pray, he taught them a prayer which really is a kingdom prayer. Every week, when we pray that prayer, we say, “thy kingdom come.”

Well, first we pray, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” We pray that God’s name may be holy. And God’s name is holy when God’s kingdom is present. So after we pray “hallowed be thy name,” we pray, “thy kingdom come.”

And when is God’s kingdom come? When God’s will is done. So, after praying “thy kingdom come,” we pray, “thy will be done.” God’s kingdom is present when God’s will is done.

And when is God’s will done? When all people have their daily bread. When no one goes hungry, not even those who live in poverty. You probably remember what Isaiah said: “You who are thirsty, come to the water; and you who have no money, come, buy, and eat. Come, be satisfied, and delight yourselves in rich food.”

That’s what the kingdom of heaven is like. It’s like 5,000 people in the wilderness in no food, and yet they are all given their daily bread. That is God’s will.

It is also God’s will that debts be forgiven. In the first century, debt was a form of slavery, and one could argue that it is the same today. Right now, there are nations in such great debt that they can’t even feed their own people, because they are too busy paying off their debt. Some think we should alter the words of the Lord’s Prayer by saying sins instead of debts, because it seems silly that God would be concerned with something so trivial and profane as monetary debt. But it’s not trivial. It’s life-and-death.

That’s what the kingdom is like. It’s like one who was in great debt but was forgiven of that debt, and set free.

It is also God’s will that we do not give in to temptation. It’s tempting to seek our own will. It’s tempting to justify means by the ends that are achieved or hoped for. It’s tempting to overlook injustice, to force people into debts they cannot repay, to deny people their daily bread. It’s tempting to seek our own self-interest, and to use violence to ensure that our self-interest is upheld.

Of course, it’s not just our own self-interest we say; it’s for the greater good. But acting violently, ruthlessly, and without compassion is never the will of God.

That’s what the kingdom is like. It’s like a person who resists the temptation to do harm, no matter what the justification.

When we act with compassion, making peace instead of war, working for justice and loving our neighbors, then we are doing the will of God… then, God is present… then God’s name is holy.

To what shall I compare the kingdom of God?

“The kingdom of God is peace, justice, and joy.”

To what shall you compare the kingdom of God?

Amos had a vision of justice rolling down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Isaiah saw a lion and lamb lying down together. A later prophet, speaking in Isaiah’s name, saw a new creation in which the sound of weeping is no longer heard, where people are able to live in their own homes and eat the fruit of their own vineyards.

To what shall you compare the kingdom of God? What simile or metaphor would you use?

Martin Luther King, Jr. dreamed of an oasis of freedom and justice where formerly there was injustice and oppression.

To what shall we compare the kingdom? Jesus said that the kingdom exists among us. The kingdom is present, right here, right now. Can you see it?

Jesus said that the kingdom belongs to those who have faith like a child. Can you see the kingdom? What does it look like?