The Seed Must Die to Bear Fruit

Reflections on a spirituality of letting go to have life

Yesterday’s sermons challenged me to notice where I need to die or let go in order to grow. Henry Nouwen once said faith is not something we achieve; it is something we receive. Receiving a gift requires open hands, and mine are much too full of useless things: old habits that no longer serve, judgments and prejudice, and past grievances no one remembers but me. Letting go is a little death, at least of the ego, in order to have life. I’d love to hear what you think in the comments. Happy post-St. Patrick’s Day!

"Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 12:24-25

I want my life to progress smoothly, learning and achieving steadily." I would become a little better at something daily, gaining momentum.  This forward march would add to a well-lived life of accomplishment, moving from strength to strength. Basically, I would like life to be as predictable and robust as compounding interest.  Like the math problem, would we take the job if we made one penny on day one, and the amount doubled every day?  If you do the math, you will make $5,368,709.12 on Day 30.   

Life seldom works with such predictable success as compounding interest. On Monday, I spent half the day troubleshooting complications, and on Tuesday, I had a meeting in Brunswick; on Wednesday, I accidentally left my laptop at home and had to improvise.  I would settle for two steps forward and one step backward.  At least that adds up to a step gained daily.  But to-do lists don't always give you a sense of whether you are gaining or losing ground. You may remember the Greek tale of Sisyphus, who the gods condemned to roll a massive boulder up a hill each day, then watch it tumble back down again, forcing him to start over for all eternity.  This punishment is the worst hell for any productivity manager, forced to work hard in futility.  Do you remember what Sisyphus did that was so terrible?  He tried to cheat death and be immortal.  Sometimes, I wonder if that is exactly what the cult of productivity is trying to do.  To achieve perfection in productivity, every minute of the day is a reach for immortality. At times, reaching for productivity causes us to lose our lives rather than gain them.

When Jesus says the grain must fall to the ground and die to grow, he is not only foretelling about his death and resurrection.   Jesus shares a metaphor for change and growth. Sometimes, a death is necessary to make room for new life. Jesus was an astute observer of the natural world, teaching many parables about scattering seeds, mustard seeds, and fig trees to make his points. Perhaps he chose a grain like wheat because it was a life staple. Today, grain still provides over 50 percent of all human calories. Bread is the staff of life because wheat packs the most efficient lunch possible, with about 70 percent of the grain being starch, ready to break down for calories. Wheat's survival strategy is all or nothing. Most of its energy goes into producing numerous seeds with lots of energy for growth. The best wheat varieties may produce between 500 and 1000 new seeds for the following year. The wheat stalk gives everything to its seeds for one short growing season. Contrast this with the survival strategy of a tree that will put more energy into a strong trunk and limbs. A tree grows for the long haul, whereas the wheat will lose its life for the species to continue. 

What is Jesus trying to tell his disciples? It sounds counter-intuitive. Shouldn't Jesus compound his spiritual interest, preaching, teaching, and growing his movement? Instead of creating a megachurch or a denomination, Jesus says you don't necessarily move forward by producing more and more, but something must die to make room for the new. 

Listen to the translation from "The Message" Bible:

"Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal."

Can you think of situations where you had more to gain by letting go? I keep learning this lesson again and again.

I had a fantasy at age 13 of how I wanted life to go.  I would be a great basketball player. After being an All-American, I would be drafted into the NBA but forego a year to play for Athletes-in-Action, a team of Christians who shared their faith through basketball.  After my NBA career, I would become a Senator, much like Bill Bradley, though I'd pick a nicer state than New Jersey.  Unfortunately, I never grew taller after age 14.  The dream died hard through failure. In one terrible game, I missed shot after shot, dribbled off my foot, and felt I single-handedly lost the game.  After working hard all summer, I fell flat, mainly because I held it too tightly.     

I was miserable the next day and said to my mother, how could God let this happen to me?  I'm doing this for God's glory (sort of), and I have failed.  It's just not fair.  My mother did not have great sympathy for this line of thought.  There were multiple ways she might have explained life to me.  She could have told me that starving children in the third world didn't get to play basketball, that God had better things to do, and that I might get more value from practicing the piano than basketball.  Instead, she gave me a book, "Your God is Too Small" by J.B. Phillips.   

Philips wrote that often, people lost their faith in God because they believed in a diminished notion of God. I thought if I believed in God and were faithful, God would grant me success. Failure created a crisis. I could think either I had made some moral error or there was no God. Philips says there is a third option: my view of God must die and grow into something more expansive. This situation was the first of many deaths of gods too small on my way to a richer understanding of God. Philips discussed many other gods that didn't measure up. We may see God as much like our parents or justifying our race or nation. Some believe in a god of judgment, constantly looking for wrongdoing like a police officer. Or there is a god far removed from us who made the world but now sits back dispassionately.

In seminary, I wrestled with ways in which certain theologies became God. A major controversy was the gender language we use for God. My entering class of 1986 was the first in history to have more women than men. The faculty stopped using gender-specific language for God. Several people might correct you at once if you said He or Father. 

I wasn't against more inclusive gender language; I just never thought of it and fell back into life-long habits. It took several weeks of being corrected for new habits to develop. Honestly, I changed my behavior at first because I didn't want to offend anyone or cause a scene. But over time, I realized that my understanding of God's nature started to shift. My view of God began to balance intellect and relationships. It became less a dominating and distant God to an accompanying and present view of God. I also noticed that my relationships with women have improved, which is good because I really like women. This shift meant letting go of the God I knew, letting a seed fall, crack open, and grow something new. 

At my first church, the Senior Pastor was the first woman to hold that position in any church in Rhode Island. Rev. Spenser was wise and seasoned, and I was a 25-year-old, inexperienced Associate, yet people would turn to me because I was the man. Those double standards persist for women clergy 35 years later. So, when you hear me pray, "Our Father, Our Mother," or read a Psalm changing the "he's" to "she's," it's not being woke or ideological. It's but to invite reflection of other possibilities. Part of being a welcoming church will constantly challenge us to have a more expansive view of God. 

Jesus' parable about the wheat dying and rising tells us faith isn't just about learning more and accomplishing more. We may have to let go of beliefs and habits to find a richer faith. We notice the pattern of death and resurrection repeatedly when we pay attention.

·      Getting my way must fall to the ground and die to produce community.

·      I must stop trying to fix people if I genuinely desire to walk with them in their journey toward transformation.

·      I often need to let go of being right to deepen relationships.

What examples can you imagine of letting something die for something better to come alive and grow? Pay attention this week and notice what you might need to let go. The profound truth of what Jesus is teaching us here is that we die to many things before our physical death. We die to ego, certainty, control, and many other things. But we get back so much more, like love, community, curiosity, and wholeness. We lose life, but we gain so much more.