This parable of the sower is quite vivid. I have a vague memory of acting it out once—probably at camp or Sunday School. Some of us were curled up seeds who sprang to life. A few were maybe a little too enthusiastic in their role as thorns who choked the growing seeds. I’m not sure how much good theology I gleaned from that activity, but I have certainly never forgotten this parable.

“If you have ears, hear!” says Jesus. And I can imagine those present glancing around to see if everyone else was just as confused as they were. Jesus acts like the message is perfectly clear, but there seems to be a lot of room for interpretation. The writer of Matthew’s Gospel certainly doesn’t trust the readers to “hear!” for themselves; he provides a nice, tidy explanation.

There is value in Matthew’s reading, and it provides a fruitful direction for a sermon. What kind of soil are we? How do we receive the word of God, the activity of God, in our lives? Most people have likely been most of these types of soil at some point: we’ve ignored God; we’ve been enthusiastic about our faith until things got hard; we’ve prioritized other things above God’s reign; and, hopefully, we’ve received what God offers and born fruit.

A sermon could explore what might cause us to ignore God or turn away from our faith or put other things ahead of following Jesus. And we could think about what makes for good soil. What are the circumstances that help us best receive God’s gifts? What spiritual practices best open us up to nurture the seeds of the Spirit? What fruit are we bearing now—individually and as a community? And what fruit do we hope to bear?

While there is a lot to be said for (and about) Matthew’s interpretation of this parable, I also enjoy turning parables around and considering them from different perspectives. In my most recent reading of this parable, I was struck by the sower.

To be sure, I’m not much of a gardener and I’m certainly no farmer, but it seems odd to just scatter seed willy-nilly like this. Why does this person throw seeds on the path and the rocks and the thorns when there is good soil right there? This is not careful sowing. It’s not an efficient use of seed. And yet . . .

And yet, the seeds that this seemingly careless sower threw out into the world “brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.” Plenty of grain grew, despite all that was seemingly wasted on the path and the rocks and the thorns. (I feel compelled to note that the birds likely did not consider the seed on the path wasted.)

I’m not saying we shouldn’t be “good soil.” But what if this parable also calls us to be bad sowers? What if this is God’s permission to fling our seeds of joy and kindness and peace and love all over the place? What if Jesus is saying that it’s OK? It’s OK that not everyone will appreciate what you do or who you are; it’s OK that many of your efforts will fail—sometimes miserably. Scatter your seed anyway.

Scatter it carelessly, randomly, haphazardly, willy-nilly. Just throw that seed out there and trust that, by the grace of God, some of it will land in good soil and there will be an abundant harvest.