Reign

Matthew 13:24-33

May 15, 2016 (Pentecost) • Mount Pleasant UMC

This is an old selfie—before the advent of the smartphone! Many of you have probably seen this before, but the question is always this: what do you see? Do you see a young woman with her back to us? Especially in this “updated” version of the old line drawing, that seems to be the easiest thing to see. Or do you see an old woman, in profile? Part of what we see in this “selfie” is determined by what we expect to see.

And isn’t that true in so many situations in life? What we see is often determined or at least influenced by what we expect to see. So when you look around at our world today—a world dominated by changing norms, political craziness and money obsessions—what do you see? Do you see a world out of control, a world you don’t understand or maybe even like anymore? Or can you—do you—see the kingdom of God?

This morning, we’re continuing our journey through the Gospel of Matthew, trying to understand not only what he has to teach us about who Jesus is, but also looking for what he wants to tell us about who we are. Matthew, you remember, is writing to a Christian community that is struggling and facing persecution. Some of them were forgetting or in danger of abandoning their Christian identity, so Matthew writes to show them how Jesus should shape their lives. If he were writing today, he would be addressing a culture that tends to shape its identity around what other people think of us, how many “likes” we get and who is paying attention to us. Matthew would, I think, dare to take on our current “selfie” culture and call us to declare, as we’ve been saying, “Death to Selfie.” He would challenge us to be shaped by the kingdom of heaven. As we’ve walked through this first half of Matthew, we’re learning that he wants us to define ourselves not by what others think or believe about us, but by what Jesus thinks of us.

And so, today, we come to these parables of the kingdom of heaven. The other Gospels use the phrase “kingdom of God,” but Matthew uses the word “heaven” in place of “God” out of sensitivity to his audience. They are good, Jewish Christians, and to speak the name or even the title of “God” out loud was considered dangerous. So Matthew substitutes “heaven,” but it means the same thing—kingdom of heaven/kingdom of God. And in this section of the Gospel, Matthew collects several parables Jesus told to describe the kingdom.

But first, let’s understand what a parable is. It’s different from an allegory; in an allegory, everything stands in for something else. Every item represents something else. For instance, in the somewhat allegorical Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan the great lion stands in for Jesus, the White Witch stands in for Satan, and so on. You can relate things in the story rather directly to our world. Parables are not like that. Parables generally use a story to make a point (and usually only a single point); they help us make sense of the unfamiliar by using the familiar. The word “parable” means “a throwing together,” which means that certain things are put together that you might not normally pair, and when you do that, you surprise people, you explain things, you make your point, or at least try to (cf. Green, Matthew for Today, pg. 132). When Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven is like…” he’s not meaning to tell us details about what it looks like. He’s telling us something about the nature or character of the kingdom.

So Jesus told parables to help people understand some greater truth about the kingdom of heaven. He told stories people could relate to and compared those events or settings to the kingdom of heaven. But there’s another reason Jesus told parables, and it’s in verse 35 as Matthew quotes from the Psalms: “I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world” (5:35). It’s almost like the calling God gave to the prophet Isaiah centuries before Jesus: “Make the heart of this people calloused; make their ears dull and close their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed” (Isaiah 6:10). Those are strange commands, weird callings. Does God not want people to hear the good news? Is Jesus intentionally hiding the truth from certain people? Well, in a sense you could say that. But more than that, he’s provoking people to think, to use their minds. Don’t take what they see for granted; think again, look deeper. And, in reality, he is using these stories to call for a decision, to provoke someone to step over the line of faith because, ultimately, “the Kingdom cannot be understood from the outside” (Green 134). Jesus used parable to pique people’s interest and to call them to follow him. And some did, just as they do today. And others—well, look at verse 57 and see the result for some: “They took offense at him.” Parables enlighten and confuse, open and close, confound and explain. So it would bode well for us to approach a parable asking Jesus to shine light, to help us hear what he wants to say to us in the story.

So what is this “kingdom” Jesus is referring to? As I’ve said before, a lot of folks in his day were looking for the Messiah, the Savior, to come and establish a physical kingdom, based in Jerusalem. And from there, the Messiah would kick out the Romans, giving Israel their own independent kingdom for the first time in hundreds of years. So when Jesus starts talking about a kingdom, that’s what a lot of folks hear. It’s the same way people approach politics today; people somehow think if we get the right candidate elected, a Christian candidate, we can get back to being a Christian nation. It’s not just this current, rather crazy, election cycle that has brought up those feelings. I’ve heard that all of my life. Yet, every President in my lifetime has at least claimed to have faith in Jesus Christ, and we have yet to see what we might envision as a Christian nation come to pass. The problem is this: the United States was never a Christian nation. We were established on principles rooted in the Judeo-Christian traditions, to be sure, but our nation was founded on the ability of all people to pursue all aspects of life—including faith—in freedom. I’ve quoted Chuck Colson before, that the kingdom of God will not arrive on Air Force One. Jesus was not talking about a physical kingdom—in his lifetime or in ours. 

He’s also not talking about heaven as a place. I’m not saying heaven is not a place, it is; it’s just not what Jesus was talking about here. (When he’s talking about heaven, he usually uses the language “the age to come.”) The “kingdom of heaven” language sometimes confuses us there. Jesus not talking about some place, some time “in the sweet by and by,” far off in the future. It’s easy, in uncertain times, for us to pin all our hopes on that reality, that one day, some day, all will be made right in eternity. That’s true, wonderfully true, and the source of our ultimate hope, but that’s not what Jesus is talking about here. He’s not talking about an earthly kingdom, nor is he talking about a heavenly kingdom. So what, then, did he mean by “kingdom”?

In this chapter, Jesus gives us six parables (three of which we read this morning) that begin with, “The kingdom of heaven is like…” The kingdom is like a man who sowed seed in his field. The kingdom is like a mustard seed. It’s like yeast in a big batch of dough. It’s like a treasure or a merchant who is looking for fine pearls. And it’s like a fishing net. And after all those stories, he asks, “Have you understood all these things?” (5:51), to which those listening say, “Yes.” I’m willing to bet some if not all of them were lying! Jesus doesn’t press them; he seems to assume they won’t get it until later (cf. Kalas, Immersion Bible Studies: Matthew, pg. 54). Our challenge with these parables, though, is to try to understand them in their setting. Jesus was taking then-current daily activities and relating them to the kingdom, but we don’t live in that world anymore. Let’s look at just a couple of these as we try to discern what the kingdom really is like, and what difference it makes to you and me today in the twenty-first century.

The first parable we read this morning is the parable of the weeds. Basically, it has to do with a farmer who sows good seed in his field, but when everything starts to grow, they discover weeds among the wheat. This is, by the way, one of the few parables Jesus himself actually explains, in verses 36-43. What’s fascinating about this parable, something we miss in the translation, is that the word for “weed” here refers to a form of rye that, when it first starts to grow, looks just like wheat. It’s only when it begins to mature that a good farmer can tell the difference. But here’s the real kicker: the rye has seeds that are poisonous. It looks safe, but it’s not (Card, Matthew: The Gospel of Identity, pg. 127; Wenham, The Parables of Jesus, pg. 57). And yet, the farmer instructs his workers to let everything grow together until harvest time. Then they will separate everything and make sure only the good wheat is kept. In Jesus’ own explanation of the parable, he says this is a parable about the end of the age, the end of history. Good and evil will grow together until that time, and then the good will be kept while the evil will be destroyed. To pull the weeds out now might destroy the whole crop he says; I can relate to that. Back when I used to have a garden, I can’t tell you how many times I pulled out a weed that was wrapped around the plant and both of them came out together. The farmer in the parable says let it all grow together; I don’t have that kind of patience. My perfectionism kicks in and I want all the weeds gone now!

But remember, this is a parable about the kingdom; this is a story about insiders. In Jesus’ own setting, there were all sorts of folks who considered themselves “insiders.” The Pharisees, with whom Jesus tangled from time to time, considered themselves God’s “set apart” people, the only ones who “got it,” so to speak. So did the Essenes, who were living out by the Dead Sea, away from the corruption of the Temple. Both groups saw things differently from each other as well as differently from Jesus. And even in his own group of disciples, there were various types of people: fishermen, tax collectors, and one betrayer. Let the good grow alongside the bad, Jesus says. God will sort it out in the end; it’s not up to you to figure it out. The kingdom of heaven is a mixed bag. There may even be those among the church who are not who or what they seem to be. Have patience, Jesus says. God can handle it. It’s a strange parable when seen from that angle, isn’t it? We get so busy trying to determine who’s “in” and who’s “out,” and Jesus says let all grow together. Maybe the good will take over the bad. It’s not our place to sort it out; it’s God’s, and he will do that at the end.

Another parable Jesus tells is much shorter and somewhat more to the point. It’s the story of the mustard tree, which starts as a small seed, Jesus says, and grows into “the largest of garden plants” (5:32). And that’s true. During one of our trips to Israel, we stopped along the road near Jericho and our guide showed us seeds for a mustard tree. I can verify that they are tiny, almost dust-like. I tried to bring some home, carefully packing them away, but when I got home, I couldn’t find them. They looked just like any other bits of dust and dirt that got trapped in my suitcase. So I have none to show you, but picture the smallest seed you can picture, then see what a mustard tree becomes. Birds come, Jesus says, and perch in its branches, and yet it starts out terribly small. If the message of that parable was not obvious, Jesus follows up with a similar story, this one about yeast. To make bread, you have to have yeast to cause it to rise. You don’t have to use much; a little goes a long way. But when it’s mixed and works all through the dough, it can cause the bread to rise to double or more its original size. I remember in seminary we got involved in the whole friendship bread conspiracy—have any of you ever done that? You give a starter to someone you consider a friend, and then there are instructions about how to handle it over a period of days until you bake it. But before you bake it, you give a starter to someone else. I’m not sure it should be called “friendship bread,” because after a while, in our small seminary community, everyone had some and we began putting the starters down the sink drain. Well, naturally the yeast still in the dough would rise and—you get the idea why we had so many plumbing problems in those apartments! Twenty years of friendship bread! Mustard seeds and yeast—small things that become greater things. The kingdom of heaven, Jesus says, is like that.

And he goes on in other parables to say similar things. When you work through this chapter, there are really two main things Jesus seems to be saying about the kingdom of heaven. The first one we’ve already touched on: the kingdom of heaven may seem small but it’s influential. A small seed, a small amount of yeast, a net that is small in the grand scheme of the sea or the ocean yet it gathers all sorts of fish (5:47). These images remind us that the kingdom of heaven is not a massive enterprise; it’s a small movement making a difference from the inside out, helping sort the good from the bad. Unfortunately, we’ve not understood that. One famous saying describes what the Church has done with Jesus’ vision of the kingdom of heaven: “Christianity started out in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise.” The kingdom, in its truest form, is small but influential.

The second main thing Jesus is saying about the kingdom is that it is valuable. In two parables we didn’t read this morning (but that you’ll read if you follow the reading plan this week), we’re told it’s like a treasure hidden in a field that a man would sell all he has in order to possess it. And it’s like a pearl of great price, which a merchant would trade everything he had for. It’s that valuable (Kalas 54-55). Think about those two images for a moment. What is it you would give up everything you have just to possess? What is so valuable that it’s worth more than your net worth? That’s what the kingdom of heaven is like.

So here’s the problem: all of these various images and similarities don’t gel. They don’t come together and give us one picture of what the kingdom is like, and that’s because, as I said earlier, we’re not talking about a place or something tangible. Part of our problem is found in the translation. The word for “kingdom” could also, probably better, be translated as “reign” (not “rain”). In other words, you could say, “The reign of God is like…” That’s better at helping us understand that this is not tangible, physical. Jesus is describing what a life, what a community, what a world looks like when God reigns—and, in fact, the “kingdom” of heaven exists wherever God reigns. Do you remember the prayer Jesus taught us, the prayer that you read back in chapter 6 and that we pray often here? Right smack dab in the middle of that model prayer, where we would often be asking for physical blessings if we had written the prayer, Jesus says this: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (6:10). It’s the same word there as we find here in Matthew 13. “Your reign come” means “your will be done.” The kingdom of heaven exists wherever God’s will is being done—in a life, in a community, in a church, in a nation. The kingdom of heaven is all about God’s reign, God being given control, God ruling with no opposition.

And that’s why it’s small but influential; not everyone welcomes God’s reign in their life. That’s why good and bad grow up together; not even everyone who comes to church welcomes God’s reign in their life. Jesus calls us to forsake everything else in order to pursue God’s call on our lives. Now, sometimes when we hear that we think of people like Andrew and Kelly Wheaton who have left so much behind to move to Chile and serve, or Jessie Oliver, who has done the same thing to serve God in Costa Rica. And they—and many others—have answered God’s call that way. They are doing what they believe they need to do to have God reign in their lives. But that is not God’s calling on everyone’s life, because God’s reign can happen right here, in your life, in our church, in our community, even in our nation. So that’s our “selfie” question this week: Does your life reflect the reign of God? Can people tell who is in charge of your life by the choices you make?

Let’s think through this for just a few minutes this morning. It used to be said that you could tell the priorities of a person by looking at their checkbook—or today, more likely, we’d say a person’s credit or debit card statement since some people today don’t know what a checkbook is. Does our use of money demonstrate the reign of God? I’ve shard before that one of the disciplines I started many years ago is to have the first checks I write every week be to the church and to the other ministries that we support. Nowadays, the missionaries we support and the children we sponsor through World Vision receive our support every month by automatic debit, which makes that an evident priority because it goes to them without me even having to think about it. But then I write a check to the church first, even when it’s tempting to pay the bills first to make sure I have enough left over. Whenever that temptation slips in, I hear this still small voice whisper to my heart that Jesus calls us to give our first to him, not our last, not what’s left. And then, with what remains after our tithe, we have to ask if how we spend it allows others to see God’s reign in our lives. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we get it wrong, but we keep working at it because I want my life  (as represented by my finances) to reflect the reign of God.

Maybe even more valuable or precious to us today is time—the priority we give to certain activities or events. Open your calendar and see if it reflects your true priorities. Does your schedule reflect the reign of God? Now, I’m not just talking about doing your devotions, praying or reading the Bible. Those things are important and should be scheduled. I know there are days when I get going too quickly and I hurry through the day and, as a pastor, I’m of course studying about God and talking about God and leading prayer to God…and then I get to the end of the day and realize I didn’t spend any time with God. I don’t think that’s a danger just for pastors; we can easily spend our whole day doing things and not set aside any time to spend with the one we claim to be our king.

But, in addition to that important time, do your daily plans reflect kingdom priorities? What does the way you spend your time tell others about what is important in your life? Today, it has been said, we work at our play, play at our worship and worship our work. The priorities we have for the use of our time are all messed up. For those of us who are in the work force, our employment certainly takes a lot of time, and that’s good and necessary as we provide for our families and those who depend on us. But are we defined by that? Is our work the defining factor in our lives? What do you do with the time when you are not scheduled to work? Thinking about work? No matter what we might say is most important to us, our calendars will tell the truth about our priorities. Does the use of our time reflect the reign of God, the priorities of the kingdom?

Sometimes, as Christians, we get all hung up on the externals or what looks good. Like a good “selfie” taker, we try to manage our image without focusing on the internals. Sometimes we even try to manage the image of others because, maybe, we think it reflects on us. I had a friend once who chewed out another person at church because that other person had been seen at a local bar. Without asking anything, this friend of mine just made assumptions about what was happening. The other person, once my friend ran out of steam, said they often go there drink a coke or water, and have interesting conversations about Jesus. Sometimes reflecting the reign of God means showing up where God’s reign might not yet be present. We don’t compromise our standards or beliefs, but we can be a witness wherever we are. Maybe where you are, especially if it’s not a particularly “religious” place, is exactly where God wants to use you to extend his reign. Does your life reflect the reign of God? Do others know God is in charge of your life in the things you say, do and the way you live?

What Jesus promised—the reign of God—really began to be a reality on this day we celebrate today. Fifty days after the resurrection was the celebration of Pentecost, originally an agricultural festival for the Jewish people. But that day, fifty days after the first Easter, the disciples of Jesus were together in an upper room, perhaps the same one in which they had shared their last meal with Jesus. At the very least, it was near the Temple where many people were gathering for the festival. But the disciples were inside, praying and waiting. Ten days before, when Jesus ascended to the Father, he had told them to wait in Jerusalem for the gift promised by his Father. He did not tell them what that gift was, except that it had something to do with the Holy Spirit. He did not tell them how long they had to wait. He just told them to wait, and so, contrary to their usual nature up to that point, they did what he told them to. For ten days they waited. How long do you like to wait? I don’t like to wait very well. Holed up in the upper room, these disciples waited and prayed and waited and prayed.

Then, on Pentecost, they experienced the power of the Spirit of God. I don’t know what that looked like or felt like; Luke in the book of Acts only says it was a sound like a violent wind and what seemed to be tongues of fire hovering above them. He doesn’t even seem to know how to describe it, but in some way, this was the manifestation of everything Jesus had promised. They had been told from that moment on, from the time the promise came, that they had one single mission: to spread the good news. They were to extend the reign of God, the kingdom of heaven. They were to be the yeast, the mustard seed, the net, the seed. So what did they do? Did they stay inside their safe, secure upper room? No, they went out into the streets and, since it was Pentecost, there were people, Luke says, “from every nation under heaven.” And God gave them each a special gift for that moment; there’s no indication they kept this gift moving forward. But for that time, they were able to speak in all sorts of different languages that they had not learned, in order to share the good news about the reign of God (cf. Acts 2:1-41). From that moment on, empowered by the Holy Spirit, they never quit telling others about the kingdom—with their words, their actions, their very lives. They lived into the kingdom of heaven and brought others along with them.

So what about us? Do our lives reflect the reign of God? What will you do to make sure that it does from this moment, this Pentecost, on?