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Parables From The Farm

Parables from the Farm, Continued

June 25, 2006

      A couple of years ago I did a sermon that was a collection of three “parables.” Now, a parable is a story that has a lesson in it. It’s up to the listener to determine what that lesson is, and its meaning for her/him.

      I’m going to tell you three parables today. These are “true life” stories from the farm I grew up on, in Poplar Bluff. To help the stories speak, we’ll have a brief Scripture passage after each one, along with a hymn. 

* * *

Parable 1—

      Our farmhouse sat on a hill overlooking a small lake.

      One of my chores was keeping our land between the house and the lake clear of weeds and underbrush. I used a sickle, swinging it back and forth.

      One hot July Sunday afternoon I was swinging the sickle back and forth. Now this was an era before iPods, so I was humming and singing to myself. All of a sudden, without any warning, a dark red and blue banded snake rose up in front of me. It flattened and spread out its head and throat, looking like a cobra, and made a loud hissing sound.

      The world speed record for running was set that afternoon.

      I blinked, and I was on the back porch, heart thumping in my throat. And I did what I always did when I was scared. I called out, “DAD! DAD!”

      Dad seemed to know everything about living in the country. He grew up in the backwoods of Mississippi at the turn of the last century, and he was at home in nature.

      He came out, and I told him what’d happened.

      He smiled. “Oh, Greggie, that’s just a puff adder. Show me where it’s at.”

      So, bravely, I tip-toed to the spot

      We found the hole it’d crawled into—its tail was sticking out.

      Dad grabbed hold of the tail and pulled it out. The snake reared up, spreading its head and hissing. With one swing of the sickle, Dad made sure that was the last time it ever did that.

      That snake—a puff adder, also known as a hognose snake—has an interesting way of defending itself. It will rise up and look threatening. It might even strike, but will do so with its mouth closed. If its enemy doesn’t run away, it will turn belly up, and pretend to be dead.

      Possums do the same thing, do you know that? We’ve always heard of “playing possum,” where the animal pretends to be dead. But before they do that, if cornered, they will bare their teeth and foam at the mouth, pretending to be rabid.

      Funny, I guess it’s a natural thing for creatures that are basically harmless to put on a front that makes them look mean and dangerous. And they’re just trying to protect themselves from harm.

      Hmmm. I wonder if people do the same thing?

      Jesus looked past fronts and defenses. He wasn’t scared by the hissing and growling. He knew that even the most fearsome person still had the heart of a child—needing security, protection, love.

      Because of that, Jesus could relate to that person more positively than with a sickle.

      Just listen. 

* * *

Luke 8:26-35

[Jesus and the disciples] arrived at the country of the Gerasenes…A man of the city who had demons met him. (Many times the demons had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. 28 When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me" —  29 for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man…[Jesus then cast the demons into a herd of swine.]…People came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid.

NRSV  

Hymn—262, Heal Me, Hands of Jesus

* * * 

Parable 2—

      It IS risky looking past the defenses of people, and daring to treat them as Jesus treated them.

      But as Christians, we’re supposed to take risks.

      Growing up in the country is a gift, a blessing, if you’re a kid. You have at your disposal a wonderful playground. You can fish, hunt, hike. Discover the marvels of nature like plants and birds and bugs. You can swing on grapevines.

      There was a special thing you could do in the wintertime.

      After a few days of a hard freeze, the small lake behind our house would freeze over. I’d get bundled up and, with tennis shoes on, tentatively step onto the hard surface. It was such an odd feeling stepping onto something like that. You knew that under you was icy water, about 10-15 feet at the deepest. But here you were…walking on it. Then, once you got used to it and knew it was safe, your walking turned into running, then sliding—and laughing all the way.

      Occasionally, getting closer to the shore, I’d hear the ice starting to creak and moan. It’d give way just a little bit. That didn’t scare me, though. I knew just to avoid that area of the lake. I was having too much fun to be bothered by creaks or moans at one end of the playground.

      Finally, at sunset, cold and exhausted but having had the time of my life, I’d make my way back up the hill. The warmth of the house embraced me, as Mom handed me a cup of REAL hot chocolate—thick, rich, warm, and sweet.

      What a wonderful frozen playground. Now, do you think I, at 52, would slip and slide on that ice today? [nod, then shake head no]. Not on your life.

      I’ve grown more sensible, cautious, responsible. You see, in life, I’ve slid to the thin end of the ice, and have fallen through. It’s an awful feeling. It makes you scared, timid. If someone invited me out on a frozen pond, I’d respectfully decline.

      I wonder. I wonder why, as we grow older, we let yesterday’s hurts spoil today’s fun? How much life do we miss out on because we lose our child-like ability to risk and play? How much joy could our discipleship bring us if we weren’t afraid to venture out onto the frozen lake, and let loose?

      Only in looking back do I know how I could be so free on that lake. I knew that up the hill, looking out through the living room window, were Mom and Dad. They were watching over me. And at the same time, they must have had broad smiles on their faces as they saw me frolicking in the playground they provided. 

* * *

Text—Psalm 139:1-10

Ps 139:1-10

O LORD, you have searched me and known me. 2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. 3 You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. 4 Even before a word is on my tongue, O LORD, you know it completely. 5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.

7 Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

9 If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,

10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.

NRSV 

Hymn—2130, The Summons, vss. 1-2, 4-5.

* * * 

Parable 3—Lookout tower

      Speaking of doing dumb things…

      A few miles from our farm was a place I loved to go in the summer time and fall.

      I’d get on my red, one-speed, Western-Auto bike and pedal up Highway W to get there. There were a couple of German Shepherds I’d have to pedal past. They’d run at me from a nearby farm, and I’d hear their teeth clicking together as they nipped at my feet. You talk about an incentive to pedal faster!

      But that was a danger I’d face in order to get to this very special place.

      It was a place you don’t see much any more. I guess satellites and technology have changed things.

      It’s this place: a lookout tower.

      These were placed in strategic points in National Forests, “looking out” for fires.

      The one near our house was 150 feet tall. After putting the kickstand down on the bike—and after my heart stopped racing from the frantic pedaling—I’d start the climb. I’d stop on the platforms and look around. It was a different perspective on each level, going higher and higher. Soon you were above the treeline. It seemed cooler, quieter. Finally, I was at the top. What an amazing sight! Forest as far as you could see. I could make out some landmarks on our property, and on our neighbors’. It was such a totally different view—and an eerily peaceful one.

      Once, when I had climbed as high as I could go, the door to the office on top opened. The ranger who staffed the tower had heard me climbing, and invited me in. How amazing it was to go into that room! There were gadgets. There was a crackling CB radio. There was this friendly man, who calmly explained things, and even let me look through his binoculars.

      Going back down the stairs was an odd feeling as well. Things grew a little warmer, a little noisier. Finally, you were back in your comfortable surroundings—where you’d look up to see the trees, instead of looking down upon them.

      Now, we couldn’t see the lookout tower from our house. It was miles away. But just because we couldn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. And it didn’t mean there wasn’t someone in that room, skilled and trained, looking after us.

      I guess it’s easy to see only the walls of our homes, the boundaries of our lawns.

      It’s harder, especially in times of stress and uncertainty, to remember that there is one who looks at our lives from a broader perspective, and with a wisdom well beyond our own. 

* * *

Text—Psalm 104:5-9, 31-33.

[Lord God,] you set the earth on its foundations, so that it shall never be shaken.

6 You cover it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains. 7 At your rebuke they flee; at the sound of your thunder they take to flight. 8 They rose up to the mountains, ran down to the valleys to the place that you appointed for them. 9 You set a boundary that they may not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth…

31 May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works —  32 who looks on the earth and it trembles, who touches the mountains and they smoke. 33 I will sing to the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have being.

NRSV 

Hymn—He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands