Covenant: Being Fruity; a sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 12:20-33

20 Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. ²¹They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’ ²²Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. ²³Jesus answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. ²⁴Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. ²⁵Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. ²⁶Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour.

27 ‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. ²⁸Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ ²⁹The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, ‘An angel has spoken to him.’ ³⁰Jesus answered, ‘This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. ³¹Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. ³²And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ ³³He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

be acceptable to you,

O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Karoline and I are currently planting our first garden ever. We are busy asking friends what to plant when, and how. On Tuesday, Noah and I spent a very brief part of the afternoon planting a row of red onions. He was really excited. He has decided that he likes gardening. We’ll see how true that is when harvest comes around.

Our hope is that our harvest will be productive. It’s our first shot at this, so I have my doubts about our rate of success, but I’m hopeful.

I hope our garden will be fruitful.

We are doing the best we know how, and checking in with friends, trying to learn how best to do this and keeping ourselves accountable. We are trying to keep our end of the bargain and trust the earth to do her part as well.

Do you see where I’m going here?

There is a reason that the prevailing context of parables and stories in the Bible is agriculture. It’s something the people around Jesus knew about. It’s something the patriarchs knew about. Like music to Stevie Wonder, agriculture is

a world within itself;

It’s a language we all understand.

…[it] always will be

One of the things that life just won’t quit.

It is a practice that people around the world have recognized from before antiquity through today, however much the practice of farming and gardening may change with the advent of ever-improving technologies: irrigation, plows, tractors, hydroponic gardening, even organic harvests from the rooftops of our most densely concreted cities. Growing things for beauty and for nourishment happens everywhere, and the observations Jesus makes about that seems to carry from one location to another, however different they may seem.

Even observations like today’s that we would rather overlook:

unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

God’s covenant is always beneficial to us. We’ve seen that through these texts during Lent. God is always working toward our well-being, our gifting, our salvation; but there is often considerable sacrifice that we must make on our end of the covenant.

We have to look hard at ourselves; to recognize that, unlike what so many of the people to whom we look for guidance have to say, we cannot be a self-made person. We cannot pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps. We cannot improve ourselves. We cannot make ourselves worthy. We cannot make ourselves holy. We cannot save ourselves. And we cannot expect that the change God desires to make in us will allow us to hold on to the stuff we treasure most dearly.

For I know my transgressions,
   and my sin is ever before me.

I know I’m not good enough for the work to which I’m called, for the following I’m called to do.

Indeed, I was born guilty,
   a sinner when my mother conceived me. 

And that is why the psalmist, seeking holiness, makes such a wrenching request:

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
   wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
⁸ Let me hear joy and gladness;
   let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.
⁹ Hide your face from my sins,
   and blot out all my iniquities. 

Purge me… the bones that you have crushed… hide your face…

Really?

How many of us have had a stomach virus this year? Do we really want to be purged?

How many of us have had bones not only broken, but crushed?

How many of us remember when someone beloved to us has been so upset, so hurt that the very sight of us is painful? What does it feel like when your beloved cannot even bear to look at you?

Purge me… crush my bones… hide your face…

Being made worthy is not a fun process. Being made holy is painful, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. To be sanctified means giving up a lot that we hold dear.

All that stuff we hold on to so tightly, all that stuff we hoard; all the times we turn back into a three-year old screaming “MINE!” have to turn into opened arms, uplifted hands, a humbled countenance before God, saying, “Yours”.

All my time is yours.

All my gifts are yours.

All my attention is yours.

All my work is yours.

All my stuff is yours.

All my emotion is yours.

Every thought is yours.

Every word is yours.

Everything, Lord, is yours.

Put to death all that is unholy. Dry it up, crack it open so that the germ of faith still living inside me can soak up all the goodness in the soil you plant me in; so that that faith, potent as a mustard seed, can grow into the fruit you desire me to be.

Put me to death, Lord. Make me holy. Make me fruity, so I can show you that I’m worth your time, your attention, your love.

Because you tell me you love me, Lord, but it’s so hard to believe when I keep messing up. It’s so hard to have faith in your love when there is so much of me that’s hate. It’s so hard to believe in you when I just can’t believe in myself.

God, purge my impure thoughts. Break the fragile frame I’ve made for myself. Hide your face from my shamefulness until you clothe me in righteousness.

And make every thought yours. Make me strong with your hand. Put on me new habits, holy habits that remake me in every action and interaction with my neighbors.

Make me worthy of the promise you’ve made with me. Write your word on my heart so that every word that comes out of me is blessing. Forgive me, remake me, and let me know only you, all the time, everywhere I am.

Make me yours, Lord.

Make me only, always, ever yours.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.