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Hello my friends, I am writing to you today tired and with a heavy heart about all that's happening in our world today. Based on the messages I've received, I know many of you are feeling the same. So, today I wanted to focus on a parable of Jesus and through it, acknowledge our collective grief and support one another as we move ahead together. Life In The Weeds.Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 (NIV) 24 Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. 25 But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. 26 When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared. 27 “The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’ 28 “‘An enemy did this,’ he replied. “The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ 29 “‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. 30 Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’” 36 Then he left the crowd and went into the house. His disciples came to him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.” 37 He answered, “The one who sowed the good seed is the Son of Man. 38 The field is the world, and the good seed stands for the people of the kingdom. The weeds are the people of the evil one, 39 and the enemy who sows them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels. 40 “As the weeds are pulled up and burned in the fire, so it will be at the end of the age. 41 The Son of Man will send out his angels, and they will weed out of his kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil. 42 They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 43 Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears, let them hear. There are moments when the world feels unbearably heavy. Moments when cruelty seems to flourish while compassion struggles to find a foothold. Moments when those who exploit, deceive, oppress, and harm others appear to prosper while those seeking justice, mercy, and peace are left exhausted and discouraged. Many of us are living in such a moment. It feels like every time we turn around, we watch vulnerable people suffer while powerful people profit. We hear truth distorted and empathy mocked. We witness fear weaponized against neighbors while other neighbors cheer in support. All while wars continue, ecosystems deteriorate, democracies weaken, and human dignity treated as something negotiable. I am an early riser. I get up between 4:30 and 5am every day to study, make my kid's lunches, feed the dog, water my plants, and have a cup of coffee before my family wakes up and the business of daily life sets in. As I went about those tasks the other day, thinking of the recent killing by ICE in Maine, the atrocities being carried out abroad, and ever mounting authoritarianism here at home, I caught myself saying out loud, in the dim light of my kitchen, as I cut the crust off my son's sandwich, "And we are just expected to go about normal life as if this is all normal?!" If we are being honest, there are days when hope feels difficult to find. There are days when lament feels more natural than optimism. These days feels like those days. In fact, I wrote a piece expressing that lament, which you can read here. These days make it feel difficult to know how to move forward. These days make it feel difficult to know if moving forward will even make a difference at all. A Parable For Our Time. Jesus' parable of the wheat and the weeds speaks directly into what we are collectively experiencing, I think. Jesus begins by describing a farmer who sows good seed in a field. Yet during the night, while everyone is asleep, an enemy comes and sows weeds among the wheat. The particular weed Jesus names is significant. In Greek, it is called zizanion. Most scholars believe Jesus is referring to darnel, a poisonous weed common in Jesus' first century context. In its early stages of growth, darnel looks remarkably similar to wheat. Only later do the differences become obvious. The servants notice the weeds and immediately ask the question many of us would ask: "Do you want us to go and pull them up?" In other words: Shouldn't we fix this now? Shouldn't we eliminate the problem immediately? Shouldn't evil be removed before it causes more damage? The farmer's response is surprising, at least for me. "No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them." Instead, he tells them to let both grow together until the harvest. This is one of the more difficult teachings of Jesus because it runs against our instincts. We want immediate resolution. We rightly want justice now. We rightly want evil stopped today. We want the weeds gone. Yet Jesus describes a world where wheat and weeds grow side by side. Goodness and evil. Mercy and cruelty. Truth and deception. Joy and sorrow. Hope and heartbreak. I believe the parable is realistic about the world as it is. Jesus never pretends evil does not exist. He never minimizes suffering. He never asks people to ignore injustice. In fact, the entire parable begins with the acknowledgment that an enemy has done real harm. Something precious has been threatened and something good has been violated. In our world today, that acknowledgment is an important one. Because there is a form of spirituality that tries to move too quickly past grief. It rushes toward positivity before making room for lament. But Scripture does not do that. The Psalms are filled with cries of anguish. The prophets lament the suffering of their people. Jesus himself weeps over Jerusalem. The biblical story repeatedly gives people permission to grieve. And perhaps many of us need that permission today. We need permission to mourn what is happening around us. To grieve the rise of cruelty. To grieve the normalization of hatred. To grieve the suffering of vulnerable people. To grieve the ways fear and power continue to distort our common life. To grieve what has been lost. As I have said before, lament is not a failure of faith, it is an expression of love. We grieve because we know the world was meant for more than this. We were meant for more than this. We grieve because deep down, we know a greater world is possible if we would all just try to pursue it together. Grief and Hope Together. Yet this parable is not only about grief. It is also about hope. Notice that the farmer does not deny the existence of weeds. Nor does he abandon the field because weeds are present. The field remains worth tending and the wheat remains worth cultivating. Life itself remains worth nurturing. This is where the parable becomes deeply challenging for those of us who feel overwhelmed by the state of the world. The presence of evil does not relieve us of our responsibility to continue growing what is good. The existence of hatred does not excuse us from practicing love. The spread of deception does not excuse us from telling the truth and the persistence of injustice does not excuse us from pursuing justice. The field still needs tending. The wheat still needs growing. The world still needs people committed to goodness. I think this commitment to goodness can be seen in another layer of the farmer's patience that can be easy to overlook. His refusal to uproot the weeds immediately. The Greek word often translated as patience elsewhere in the New Testament carries the sense of long-suffering, a willingness to endure for the sake of another's redemption. Throughout Scripture, God's patience is consistently connected to God's desire for repentance. Turning from the ways of evil and darkness to the ways of goodness and light. Again and again, God delays judgment because God desires restoration. The weeds remain not because evil is acceptable, but because grace continues extending an invitation. Every day that evil remains is another day that transformation remains possible. Every day judgment is delayed is another opportunity for repentance. Now hear me, this does not eliminate accountability. The parable ends with a harvest. Jesus is clear that justice is coming. The weeds do not remain forever. The suffering of the vulnerable is not ignored forever. The distortions of truth are not tolerated forever. The violence of empires is not celebrated forever. There is a harvest. There is an accounting. There is justice. For people experiencing suffering, this is not a threat. It is a promise. The promise that evil does not get the final word. The promise that history is moving somewhere. The promise that oppression is not eternal. The promise that tears will not always flow. The promise that those who suffer will not always suffer. The promise that God sees. The promise that God remembers. The promise that God will act. When Jesus explains the parable to his disciples, he says that the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. That image would have stirred memories of Daniel 12:3, where those who remain faithful amid turmoil are promised future glory. The point is not escapism. The point is endurance and hope. The point is trusting that the God who planted good seed has not abandoned the field. See Where We Are. For many of us, that may be the invitation of this passage. Not to deny our grief. Not to suppress our lament. Not to pretend everything is fine. But neither to surrender to despair. The weeds are real. The suffering is real. The heartbreak is real. Yet so is the wheat. So is goodness. So is mercy, courage, and compassion. So is every act of love offered in a world that often rewards cruelty. The kingdom continues growing even when weeds seem more visible. And because of that, we can keep planting. Keep tending. Keep loving. Keep advocating. Keep telling the truth. Keep seeking justice. Not because we are certain we can fix everything. But because we trust the One who has promised that the harvest is coming. The field belongs to God and God has not given up on it. PrayerLord of the harvest, We come before you carrying grief. We grieve the suffering we see in our communities, our nation, and our world. We grieve the ways cruelty often appears to prosper. We grieve the harm done to vulnerable people. We grieve the divisions that separate neighbor from neighbor. We grieve the weariness that settles into our hearts when justice feels distant. Teach us to lament honestly. Help us resist the temptation to ignore pain or pretend everything is fine. Give us courage to bring our sorrow before you. And in the midst of our grief, help us hold onto hope. Remind us that you have not abandoned the field. Remind us that goodness still grows. Remind us that mercy still matters. Remind us that every act of love, every pursuit of justice, every effort to tell the truth participates in your work of renewal. Give endurance to those who are tired. Give comfort to those who are hurting. Give courage to those who are afraid. Give wisdom to those seeking the next faithful step. And remind us that your patience is not weakness, but mercy. That your delay is not indifference, but love. That your justice is not absent, but coming. Until that day, help us keep tending the field. Help us keep planting seeds of hope. Help us keep choosing compassion over cruelty, truth over deception, and love over fear. May we trust that the One who began this good work will bring it to completion. And may we shine with your light in a world longing for healing. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
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I have spent the majority of my life in Evangelical Christian spaces. I have experienced a lot of church hurt. I now write to explore topics that often are at the intersection of politics and Christianity. My desire is to discover how we can move away from Christian nationalism, religious fundamentalism, and church hurt to reclaim the Gospel of Jesus together. I'm glad you're here to join the conversation. I look forward to talking with you.
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