Unlike so many revolutionaries, Jesus did not gather to himself an army to conquer the world.  He invited twelve ordinary souls to follow, to be the first over the top by giving their lives to Love. The grace to follow comes as God plants an awareness of the cost, and a willingness to accept it. In the process He convinces the heart of the splendor of the task assigned.

How does this play out in our world that teems with ambivalence, is steepled with counterfeit crosses and endless philosophies, and inhabited by wounded deists?  Part of the answer can be found in a word:

Seed.  

Psalm 126 is triumphant; the pilgrims are returning home!  Historically, the church has marked this a missionary song, one that should lighten the load of expectation, lessen the bruises of rejection, and soften the heart toward a more resilient belief in the work God does among us.  David concludes the Psalm, “He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with Him.”  Some churches still sing the hymn, ‘Bringing in the Sheaves,’ that speaks of how God grows from a seed a soul in love with him. The double miracle is that He gives us weak humans the thrill to feel the weight of them on our shoulders. We carry the sheaves; loved ones, strangers, prisoners and anyone else we find ready, home to enjoy heaven, before heaven.  

Can we imagine our lives as seed bearers, leaving our home, pockets full of seed, looking for good soil to drop eternal life into, to scatter broadly the hope of heaven?  When we return with pockets emptied, rejoicing comes like a chorus upon the morning wind, lifting our hearts to remember that purpose kissed destiny in the fields of the world. Seed dropped from a shaking hand, and burrowed deep to bear fruit only one set of eyes may ever see.

Not every day will the sheaves be heavy on the shoulders; not every day can we sing loud and strong from the throat of joy. Yet, if after a day of sowing, our pockets are empty, that’s all that matters, and for that we put our trust in God, the Tiller, the Weeder, the Waterer of the various soils to which we cast our seed.