Crowding in our Life - March 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Gen. 42:18-28; 1 Cor. 5:9-6:8; Mark 4:1-20

One of the most life-giving projects at Saint Stephen’s began last fall in the Carpenter living room. Every Monday afternoon, I would stroll in with my New Oxford Annotated Bible and sit down with Doug Carpenter. We would open to the Gospel according to Mark, one of us would read a chapter aloud, press record on the phone, and then we would simply talk about it. (You can listen to those conversations here.)

The idea came from Doug, who had shared that he was currently reading the Bible chapter by chapter with one of his godchildren. What a beautiful way to be a godparent, even in ones 90s!

Most weeks, we had each read ahead and jotted a few thoughts, but not much more than that. The practice itself was the point, that we are returning again and again to the soil of scripture. What I noticed was how often we could see ourselves in the story, or recognize our world reflected in Mark’s Gospel.

I write this because, as that weekly rhythm has paused—simply because of too many pressing commitments—I realize how much I miss the grounding of it. I still read scripture and pray with it, but there was something about those Mondays that fed my spiritual life in a way that was steady and sustaining.

I think that is at the heart of Jesus’ parable in Mark 4:1–20. The sower scatters seed everywhere. Sowed on the path, on rocky ground, among thorns, and on good soil. The seed is the same in every case. The difference is not the generosity of God, but the condition of the soil that receives it.

And Jesus is honest about the thorns. The seed that falls among them is choked by “the cares of the world, the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things.” That line always lands close to home. Not because any of those things are inherently evil, but because they quietly crowd out the spaciousness needed for God’s word to take root.

I can feel that tension in my own life right now. The commitments themselves are meaningful and good. Yet when they multiply, they can become the very thorns Jesus names. Those Monday conversations were, for me, a small act of tending the soil. They created space for the word to sink deeper, to nourish faith, to shape hope. And their absence reminds me that good soil does not happen by accident. It is cultivated through attention, relationship, and time given to God.

The invitation of this parable is not guilt but awareness: to notice what is growing in us, and what may be crowding out life. Because the sower is still scattering. How are you tending the soil of your very life?

Faithfully,

John+

Self-reflection question:
What “thorns” in my life, good commitments or necessary cares, might be crowding out the space where God’s word can take deeper root in me right now?