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Growth Mode
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Some things simply do not make sense. We know cigarette smoking is harmful, yet millions still smoke. We know fatty foods aren't good for us, yet we indulge. We know social media correlates with anxiety and depression, yet we keep scrolling.
The same is true in our relational world. We push away the people who love us most. We reject good advice. We sabotage opportunities for growth. And sometimes we even do this with God.
It's one of the great mysteries of the human heart: why do we reject and resist the things we need the most? And how do we flip that switch and move into a growth mode with God?
Over the next three Sundays, we're going to explore Luke chapter 8 and figure out, with God's help, how to switch on the growth mode we so desperately need.
About three centuries after Plato, an unknown teacher began making his way around a small province of the Roman Empire—on what we might call a "freedom tour." Luke 8:1-3 describes it:
"Soon after, Jesus traveled through the cities and villages preaching and proclaiming the good news of God's kingdom. The Twelve were with him, along with some women who had been healed of evil spirits and sicknesses. Among them were Mary Magdalene, from whom seven demons had been driven out; Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's servant; Susanna; and many others who provided for them out of their resources."
This traveling band—twelve disciples, women who had been healed and delivered, people set free from oppression and meaninglessness—would go into towns and cities and proclaim this good news. They would stand around Jesus and say, "He changed my life. He set me free."
And Jesus would say: You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free—free with God, free with your family, free at work, free from whatever plagues you.
Many of us could say the same thing. We're here in church, singing, praying, listening to God's Word, because at some point God's message changed our lives and gave us freedom.
A couple of weeks ago, while greeting people after a service, a man in his thirties stopped me and told me how his life had been changed right here at this church ten years earlier. He got emotional telling his story. He could be—he is—part of this freedom tour, because he received the good news instead of rejecting it.
Many times, the people we love the most—family, friends, coworkers—reject and resist the beautiful, life-changing freedom Christ offers. Why?
Jesus sensed this same resistance during his ministry. So in Luke 8, he tried something new: he began teaching in parables—stories, illustrations, mirrors held up to reflect life.
"A farmer went out to scatter seed. As he was scattering, some fell on the path, where it was trampled, and the birds ate it."
Jesus often threw down a parable like a riddle and let people wrestle with the meaning. But in this particular parable, he gives us a rare gift: he actually explains what it means (Luke 8:4-12).
Jesus tells us plainly: the seed is the word of God, and the path represents the hearts of those who hear it but reject it—the birds represent the devil snatching away the word before it can take root.
Many people in the crowds had already been in the process of rejecting what God was doing. God sent John the Baptist—a radical, sold-out prophet who talked about repentance—and they rejected him for being too intense. Then God sent Jesus, the joyful Messiah who ate and drank with people—and they rejected him too, for being too loose.
They understood the rules, but they didn't understand the relationship God was offering: a relationship of mercy and grace, built on what God has done for them—not what they could do for God.
When a farmer walked back and forth across his field, his footsteps packed the dirt down hard—almost like cement. When seed hit that hardened path, it would simply bounce off.
It's like a Superball bouncing off pavement. Some people hear the good news of God's grace, hear about the freedom Christ offers, and for reasons that don't quite make sense, it just bounces right off them. Their hearts have hardened like cement.
So what does this parable call us to? Three things.
As followers of Christ, we're all about sharing the good news—scattering seed, telling others what God has done in our lives, inviting people to experience the freedom we've experienced: freedom from fear, from despair, from loneliness.
Early in ministry, I met a man who owned a clothing store—an older man, smoking, gruff, seemingly hardened toward God. I remember thinking, I would never invite this guy to church. His heart is cement.
Fifteen years later, he approached me at church, smiling, and told me his name—Mel. He'd come to know Christ. He'd been baptized. He told me story after story of how God had changed his life, even though he'd come from a background of agnosticism and atheism.
God, over time, cracked open a heart that had hardened into cement—because someone took the time to scatter seed, to invite him.
Maybe you're not an evangelist. Maybe you get nervous talking about God and religion. That's okay—you can still invite. "Come with me this Sunday." "Come with me to hear this music." Invite, invite, invite, and watch what God does.
Not everyone is in the same place you are in their relationship with God—relationally, emotionally, vocationally, or psychologically. We have to be patient, just as God has been patient with us.
Years ago I taught a series called "Why Bert's Not a Christian," playing off Bertrand Russell's famous essay. Through dialogues with a skeptic, I explored the intellectual reasons people give for rejecting faith—hypocrisy, suffering, the reliability of Scripture.
But rejection isn't only intellectual. Often it's moral or psychological. When we let the wrong things trample on our hearts over time—bitterness, anger, cynicism—it creates a heart of cement that repels the good news. So when we share our story, we must be patient.
There are four types of soil in this parable, but let's fast-forward to verse 15, describing the soil we all want to be:
"The seed that fell on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop."
Perhaps this parable isn't only about rejection—why people reject or resist God. Perhaps it's just as much about reception and transformation.
Good soil is rich, dark, and ready to grow anything. That's what God is calling us toward—hearts continually cultivated to know him more deeply and to live out his purposes.
For those we love who seem to have a heart of cement, we pray a risky prayer:
"God, do whatever it takes to break up that hardened heart. Do whatever it takes, Lord, that they might open themselves to the freedom you offer."
And for ourselves, we pray:
"God, create in me a clean heart. Create in me an open heart. I want to be good soil for you to grow your life, your joy, your freedom inside of me."
We all want to be good soil—hearts that are open, hearts God can use for his plans and purposes. There's so much more to explore together as we dive deeper into becoming good soil for God, flipping on that growth mode.
