A message delivered at Faith Lutheran in Clive, as part of a pulpit swap weekend, based on three parables from Matthew 13:31-33, 44.

Dad, what is heaven like?

My son Graham, who is nine, asked this exact question earlier this week. At the time our family had just finished dinner. Up next for him normally is the brushing of teeth, the putting on of pajamas, the saying of goodnight blessings, the heading upstairs to bed.

And for my wife and I? We had our latest installment of Netflix and chill, aka Ted Lasso, season 3, ready to go.

The question lingered, left unanswered. It dared interrupt our evening routine.

I put down the remote. How best to respond? I yawned.

Perhaps the extra oxygen boost would help me answer well.

It is a world without pain, I began. There is no death, no war, no disease. Instead, there is only kindness, people care for each other, everyone lives in harmony. Won’t that be great, I concluded? Graham nodded slightly. The explanation is reductive – defining something by what it isn’t is, well, less than ideal.  This is like describing a pb&j sandwich without mentioning peanut butter, jelly, or bread.  Anyone want to take a stab at that?

Hmm. Perhaps another approach would be better.

What do you think heaven will be like, Graham? He paused to reflect.

There will be lots of joy and happiness, he began. You can say anything, and it will appear.

I interjected. Oh, wow. What would you ask for?

All the Pokemon cards in the world.
To get a bunch of video games I liked.
To remember only good things.

While all that may just be – sign me up for the video games, a shared father-son passion – this understanding, too, seemed incomplete. Surely this grandiose destination has more to it than God as personal genie in a bottle, granting every wish.

Graham then went upstairs to brush his teeth, returning a bit later for our evening blessing. Jesus loves you, and so do I, we both said, marking each other’s foreheads with a sign of the cross.

Reflecting on our conversation something wasn’t sitting quite right with me. Graham’s question was filled with child-like wonder, a natural curiosity, came straight from the heart. Surely, I could have offered him a better response than that.

Kingdom
Today’s gospel, somewhat serendipitously, also centers on describing the kingdom of heaven. Unlike my feeble attempts a few nights ago, Jesus doesn’t start with an outline of what heaven is not. And he doesn’t use wish fulfillment to explain it either.

Instead, Christ uses the language of parable to help us better understand.

With several short parables he shares, in human, earthly terms, in ways we just might grasp.

The kingdom of heaven is like:

– A mustard seed
– Yeast in bread
– Hidden treasure

Mustard seeds start small, but grow into something grand. Yeast helps bread rise, adding strength to the dough. Hidden treasures, when found, are cause for celebration.

On the surface the takeaways seem clear. Heaven –

is grand,
nourishes us,
is a treasure to seek.

If we want a simple, feel-good takeaway of the divine that –

dots the i’s,
crosses the t’s,
fits neatly in a box,
wrapped in a bow –

We can leave it at that. Done clap. Message complete.

Unfortunately, at least for anyone hoping for a very short sermon, these parables contain more. It is worth checking out what else these parables contain too.

Consider the mustard seed. It wouldn’t have been deliberately sown in the neat rows of a farmer’s field. The mustard seed was an outlier, an undesirable. It was different, mixed in among the others. Similar to the gospel reading last week the mustard seed wasn’t supposed to be there. Yet it wasn’t plucked out. Instead, it was left to grow in place.

Consider the bread. Yeast in bread, these days, at least for many of us, is a win. It adds flavor, height, texture. But yeast is also a leavening agent, which went against Jewish standards of the time. You shall eat nothing leavened, says Exodus 12:15. And yet the woman in this parable intentionally mixes this impurity in the batter, all the same.

Consider the hidden treasure. It was found in a field not owned by the man. Once found he reburied it, and then bought the field – seemingly to get the treasure – without telling the owner it was there. At best this is deception. And it might just be against the law.

Based on this the kingdom of heaven is also like a –

A weed, that grows to support all sorts of life;
A woman, who breaks religious norms;
A man, who, to acquire treasure, becomes a thief.

Are you feeling a little uncomfortable?  Because, personally speaking, this makes me want to squirm. This version of the divine can’t be put in a box with neat 90-degree corners. You can’t tie it together with a big fancy bow. Because this view of heaven is also invasive, unpredictable, hidden, arguably even criminal. Heaven, from this vantage, is pure surprise.

This version is akin to the voice of God, whispering in our ear, saying see that boundary there? Is that your boundary? Or is it mine?

For often God calls holy what we do not.

These heavenly parables ask us to question assumptions, break rules, reevaluate what we thought we knew.

Said differently, the kingdom of heaven is so much more than any simple explanation can contain.

In the Lord’s Prayer we petition that thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. That is to say God’s kingdom can be found scattered all around in the here and now. And finding this kingdom in new-to-you ways? That can be downright fun.

Today
Thinking back to my son’s question earlier this week – what is heaven like – if I could have a redo, using the language of surprise, it might go something like this…

The kingdom of heaven is like having Breakfast for Dinner, complete with pancakes drowned in butter and syrup, crispy bacon, eggs prepared your favorite way. Who knew dishes once relegated to the morning could be so great at night?

The kingdom of heaven is like hearing a female pastor preach for the very first time and going whoa, that was amazing! And then wondering, who else in this big, ever-changing world of ours, might God be calling to lead?

The kingdom of heaven is like planting a garden of tomatoes and getting a strawberry plant that yields a bumper crop of the best fruit you’ve ever had.

The kingdom of heaven is like the father at a rest stop with his hungry daughter. The wall of vending machines only takes cash; he has none. But there, on the ground the father finds just enough change to buy a snack that makes his daughters day. Yes!

The kingdom of heaven is like the manager who changed company policy and started hiring people with tattoos and piercings. The manager then realized something: the new staff were some of the best employees the manager had.

You see son, I’d tell him, heaven is many things. It is –

– seeing the goodness of people in the unlikeliest of places,
– challenging assumptions that keep God’s children down,
– thinking you have it all figured out, then learning you might be wrong.

The kingdom of heaven is waiting to be discovered, understood, embraced. Finding heaven among us is a beautiful, joyous pursuit. Finding heaven is a pursuit, my friends, you are never too young, and never too old, to begin.  Amen.

In the Spring of 2017, while still living in South Florida, the phone rang. On the other end was Eric Carlson. At the time Pastor Eric was an Assistant to the Bishop for the Southeastern Iowa Synod of our Lutheran denomination, the ELCA.  He also happened to grow up here at St. John’s, and now serves down the road at Faith Lutheran in Clive. A bit of a plug – he’ll be here the weekend of September 23 and 24 as part of our Alumni Preaching series. Keep an eye out for that fun reunion 😊.

During our conversation, Eric, trying to sell this big-city Floridian suburbanite on a state I’d never been to, asked plainly, “what do you know about Iowa?”

I replied coyly, “You mean besides the corn?”  Realizing the foot-in-mouth potential this response created, I quickly attempted to recover. “Not much. Tell me more.”

Eric did, and it got me curious enough to consider what might be. Six years, and two congregations later, well, here we are. Iowa continues to surprise.

I soon learned why Iowa can produce that great corn we know and love. It can be summed up in two words:

Good soil.

Much of the soil here is of a certain type called Chernozem, or black soil. Black soil is known for its dark, rich color. It is filled with organic material, able to hold on to moisture well.

Black soil primarily exists in just two parts of the world; the Great Plains we live in is one of them. Before becoming farmland these prairie fields were filled with plants with root systems going up to 15 feet into the ground. Starting from seed, they build deep roots underground while flourishing aboveground. All while growing side-by-side with other deep-rooted plants that help keep the soil strong.

And when their time is up? The valuable nutrients these plants contain return to the soil. Prairie plants participated in this circle of life here for millions of years. Each plant life, each plant death made the soil richer, deeper, more resilient for future generations of plants to come.

Because of all this black soil can produce high agricultural yields for all sorts of things. It is why Iowa is the top producer of corn in the country, and a close second in soybeans. Iowa soil is good soil, indeed.

Soil
Our parable from Matthew 13 and the explanation of it also asks us to consider the conditions of the soil where we have been planted.

The story begins with Jesus getting out of the house, sitting by the sea. With all the –
Teaching,
Preaching,
Praying,
Healing –
that Jesus had been up to crowds began to form.

To make space Jesus got in a boat, preparing to give a message to the crowd gathered on the beach.

Wait a second –
Preaching from a boat?
Is that a thing?
Can we do that here?
Sign me up for that 😊.

Jesus then began to share about four different types of people who hear God’s word, and what happens next.

The first person is like a seed fallen on the path. A path has no soil. It gets walked on. The person hears God’s word but does not understand. God’s call on their life simply flies away into nothingness. The message never makes it from ear to head to heart.

The second person is like a seed that falls on rocky ground. There’s a little soil, sure, but not enough. The seed germinates, grows quickly, but the hot sun bears down. This person hears God’s word and understands. The message makes it from ear to head to heart. They are excited about this new life in Christ, oh the joy! But then comes trouble. The soil is limited, the roots are shallow. Their potential to help bring God’s kingdom here on earth shrivels up and fades away.

The third person is like a seed that falls among thorns. There’s plenty of soil. The seed germinates, grows, even bears some fruit. But those thorns! They keep getting in the way. They keep choking out great potential for the plant. God’s message makes it from ears to head to heart to impacting the kingdom in Christ-honoring, meaningful ways.

But the person is distracted by the pursuit of wealth. They busy themselves always acquiring more. What might be possible without these thorns that hold them back? God knows.

But the fourth person? This one is different. They are like a seed that falls on good soil. No rocks or thorns get in the way. The seed germinates, builds deep roots. Here there are optimal conditions, enough sun, sufficient rain, just the right nutrients to thrive. They blossom. God’s message makes it from ears to head to heart to impact. They live out God’s call for them on the regular. They grow and grow and grow. They are a bumper crop for Christ, a bountiful yield that keeps multiplying their impact in incredible, God honoring ways.

And it all begins, for this person, by being planted in good soil.

Jesus concludes the parable by saying, “Let anyone with ears listen!” The takeaway is clear. God wants us to –

Listen: move the message from ears to head.
Understand: move it from head to heart.
Blossom: act on our beliefs.
Produce: do it again, and again, and again.

Today
This good Iowan soil extends far beyond what we use in our gardens and farms.

In many ways we Iowans follow the greatest commandment well. At our best we love our neighbor in some pretty amazing ways.

– Our public school graduation rate is 94%, one of the highest in the US.
– We were one of the first states to legalize same gender marriage, years before others.
– We have a long history of resettling refugees, from Vietnam to Ukraine and beyond. Iowa governor Robert Ray, who advocated for resettling refugees in the 1970s, quoted the Golden Rule to explain why we should extend help. Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Now that’s a leader.

With all of this we Iowans love our –
– Neighbors with children, empowering them to learn.
– Neighbors who are gay, helping them to marry who they love.
– New neighbors from other lands, welcoming them with arms wide open.

In Christ-honoring ways this is what good soil looks like. We can be proud of that.

And yet sometimes rocks and thorns pop up that get in the way.

– In March our state government limited transgender rights, including banning them from entering public school bathrooms that correspond with their gender identities.
– In May, our state government instituted a book ban, limiting what our children in public schools can read, learn about, seek to understand.
– And two days ago, on Friday July 14, Iowan women largely lost safe access to a medical procedure they had a legal right to for fifty years. What on earth is going on?

Despite all this our call as people of faith is the same. We are called to love our –

– Neighbors who are children,
– Neighbors who are teachers,
– Neighbors who are transgender,
– Neighbors who are parents,
– Neighbors who are women.
– Neighbors, period.

This is Christ’s greatest command.

We have good Iowan soil. Our roots here run deep. Even with these recent challenges we have much here to celebrate. But when it comes to love of neighbor, I need to be honest with you. We as a state are falling short. As a people of faith we need to get back to it.

We are called to more than hearing.
We are called to more than belief.

We are called to act. To actually go out and love our neighbor. We are called to help our neighbor thrive. Not to limit them in ways that cause harm.

That is the call.
That’s what the good soil is.
And we have that here at St. John’s.

We are called to blossom where we’ve been planted.
Caring for all our neighbors. Without exception.
Until God’s work is done.  Amen.