Surrender

by Greg Grotewold

The parable of the sower is perhaps Jesus’s most famous allegory (Mark 4:3-8). And until recently, I thought its sole intent was to explain why not everyone who hears the word of God (the seed) receives Christ and truly abides in Him. While that’s the primary aim of the text, I’m discovering that the third scenario (seed falling among thorns) is a bit more nuanced and perhaps carries a broader application.

Aided by a recent sermon from my pastor, I now see how a thorn’s capacity to overwhelm isn’t isolated to just unbelievers. After all, good soil produces not only grain but also weeds. A thistle here and there is innocuous enough, but problems occur if the field is left untended for any material length of time. If prolonged, an infestation will occur. The suffocated grain plant will begin to wither, and yield will be compromised. While the Lord promises the blood-bought believer that the plant itself will never die, it will remain barren until action is taken. I recognize it’s an image not explicitly depicted in the passage; nonetheless, I do sense that this specific circumstance is anticipated and for good reason. It’s real.

I very much feel such barrenness at times, and so does every other disciple. Whether we always recognize its source is a different matter but one that Jesus helps us with later in the chapter. He pinpoints these yield-thwarting thorns as “the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches and the desires for other things” (Mark 4:19, ESV). In other words, thorns are idols. They grab hold of the heart’s affections and begin choking the believer’s love for the Lord. While Jesus specifically targets riches, the reference to “the desires for other things” suggests He is speaking about any form of idolatry.

The revelation here isn’t that I’m an idolater and have weeds. I know that; it’s not news. However, the speed with which these pesky intruders can develop into an infestation is. I’m currently living that reality. I look away for what seems but a fleeting moment, and my field becomes littered with them. The growth is invasive. In fact, it’s only upon closer examination that I can even see the grain.

This is not without consequence. Weariness has become my dominant emotion, thanks in large part to one particular idol. It isn’t money or possessions but an item potentially even more dangerous. What I euphemistically frame as resolve and dedication, the Lord sees as something quite different: control. And He is correct. I’m a helicopter parent, hovering overhead and swooping down whenever there is an issue or concern with either of my sons. I dearly love my children and want only the very best for them, but my relentlessness in trying to protect their well-being has proved exhausting for all involved.

In this gracious rebuke, the Lord is beginning to show me there is a better way. It’s Him. The energy I exert to secure outcomes for my sons needs to be redirected towards securing a greater reliance upon Him and His omnipotent goodness. As much as I love my kids, Jesus loves them infinitely more. He too wants them to prosper. The very best way I can serve them, and myself for that matter is by allowing Jesus to serve us. I must lean into His wise and gracious care and surrender these burdens. They are not mine to shoulder. They’re His.

If I will deepen my dependency upon Christ, He promises a spiritual reversal will occur. “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5, ESV). The thorns will wilt. The grain plants will strengthen. And to His glory and my family’s peace, the yield will grow thirty, sixty, a hundredfold.

May the Lord give me the strength to abide in Him and surrender my hardships. May He do the same for you, too.

About The Author Greg Grotewold lives in Oakdale, MN, with his wife, Sandi, and their two sons, Luke and Eli. He is a deacon in his local church and greatly enjoys serving in this capacity.