Rev R D Drysdale
10th October 1976
McQuiston Memorial Presbyterian Church, Belfast.
Harvest Sermon
Every farmer knows that his work depends upon a universal law of nature, that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west, day and night will come round every twenty-four hours and the seasons will follow one another in regular rotation. Though I suppose some of us may feel that summer got out of line this year, but still…
And so, the farmer puts out his cattle in the early spring when the grass begins to grow and brings them in again in the late autumn when the growth is over.
He plants potatoes when they're in seed and expects to find a rich crop when they're ready to be dug up. He sows his seeds of barley or wheat and looks for a plentiful harvest when it's time to reap and thresh. Every farmer, every gardener for that matter, relies upon this uninterrupted law of nature.
Things follow one another in regular sequence and without that law, we'd starve.
Harvest, our Thanksgiving here this morning, is possible because in the words of our text, “Whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.” So, if a farmer sows seed, he doesn't expect if he's sowing grass seed to see daffodils.
If he sows barley, he doesn't expect to reap wheat any more than the gardener who plants flowers doesn't look for thistles.
Well now, says Paul in that passage that was read to us in Galatians, the same law that operates and holds good in nature holds good also in the realm of human nature. “Whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap.”
Every one of us, he says, every one of us has two sides to our makeup, two natures if you like. The one is our lower nature or what Paul calls the flesh. From it spring all our evil tendencies, violence, hatreds, prejudices, intemperance and jealousy.
The part of us that makes for problems and is hard to live with. The other is our higher nature, what Paul calls “the spirit.” From it springs our awareness of God and every noble ideal, our quest after truth, justice, love, mercy, faith and so on.
Now, imagine, says the apostle, that your life is a great field and into its soil we sow either the seeds of our lower or our higher natures. Sow the seeds of the flesh and we will eventually reap the harvest of corruption, the weeds of individual and community life that grow up to choke and destroy us. On the other hand, sow the seeds of the spirit and we can, in due time, expect to reap the harvest of love, joy, peace and everlasting life.
So, what's it going to be? Are we sowing the seeds of the flesh, both in our own lives and in that of our church and our community or the seeds of the spirit? The sowing determines the harvest. For the law we see at work all around us in nature applies to human nature too, to your life and to mine.
“Whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.”
Let's think a bit more about that.
There are many today who even while we give thanks at this time of the year for the harvest of the fields who are reaping a harvest they wish they'd never sown. And there are those who even now are sowing seeds that in time to come will bring only sorrow, bitterness and unhappiness.
Paul is not consistent throughout his letters in his use of this word “flesh” but here in these verses what he seems to mean is that the person who sows only the seeds of the flesh is the person who is out to gain only physical satisfaction in life. Let's for a moment home in on two major characteristics in our day that appear to me to illustrate exactly what we're being warned about here, pleasure and violence. Today we are seeing and are tempted and more than tempted to share this outlook… today we're seeing many who controlled by their lower nature are sowing the wild oats of a life dedicated to the selfish pursuit of pleasure.
I'm reluctant to put it like that because I can recall only too well preachers of my youth who seem to me to have nothing more positive to say in their Christian message than to express their opposition to all forms of pleasure. You know what I mean. Those whose summary of the Christian life seemed to consist of a string of don'ts and whose own personal testimonies were always a publicised list of the things they'd given up.
As someone remarked to me, “Why does Christianity always seem to be against the things that I enjoy?” And too often our Christianity does give the impression of being totally negative, but for all of that, we can hardly avoid the conclusion, if we read the New Testament at all, that while the gospel of Jesus Christ is not against the pleasure of living, its face is set against the life that lives only for pleasure, for the attainment of its own selfish ends. And that's just the seeds that are being sown all around us today. The advertising men thrive on it, for they know it has instant appeal.
It's not that pleasure in itself is wrong. Heavens, what would life be like if it didn't have its pleasurable elements? But things get all out of hand when life is reduced down to nothing but the selfish pursuit of pleasure. Existence then becomes that of the gadfly, flitting about here and there in the endless search for sensation, victims of our own insatiable appetites.
It's hard to talk like this without sounding like a reactionary old Puritan, but you know what I mean. Somewhere in our go-getting, swinging, dope and bed generation, an awful lot of people are losing their way, young and not so young.
Did you see the aggressive trade unionist who was interviewed recently and who was advocating a £60 a week increase in wages for his members?
“What is the huge increase for?” asked the interviewer.
“So we can get more...” was the reply.
“More of what?”
“More of everything!”
That just about sums it up perfectly, doesn't it? But in our wild pursuit of nothing but selfish pleasure, of get and gain, of more of everything, the big deep searching question seems to remain unanswered, indeed even unasked, when the last drop has been drunk, or the drug bottle is empty, or the last penny lost on the horse that never came in, or the carnal relationship is over.
What then? What's left? An empty disillusioned life reaping the bitter fruits of despair, kicking against society, against itself, against God, against everything. When the life given to us by God has been treated as nothing more than a stone that's sent skimming across the water, sustaining itself for a time by dancing from wave to wave, but suddenly sinking into the darkness when the dance is over… What then? Perhaps few songs catch this mood of inevitable disenchantment better than these sad haunting words.
“The party's over. It's time to call it a day. They've burst your pretty balloon and taken the moon away. It's time to wake up. Take off your makeup. All things must end. The party's over. It's all over, my friend.”
“Whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap.”
And there are others today who, controlled by their lower nature, are sowing the wild oats of violence.
These are the people who, regardless of the consequences, create strife, suspicion, and chaos, and will have peace for no one. We who live in Northern Ireland hardly need reminding of it, and that in the words of Hosea, “when you sow the wind, you reap the whirlwind.” We know only too well the nature of the harvest that has to be reaped sooner or later when the seeds of violence have been sown.
But have we really learned the lesson of our tortured history yet? I fear not. If the last two Saturdays in Derry is anything to go by, and the recently renewed bomb attacks… Just in the past few days I came across this leader in the Belfast Telegraph. It was headed, “Bitter Harvest” and described how a little ten-year-old boy had to come into court to give evidence against two men whom he had witnessed murder his own father.
The judge, in summing up, said to them, “Both of you have seen for yourselves some of the after-effects of your handiwork. You saw in court a little boy crying as he relived the death of his father at your hands.” The men sentenced pleaded guilty to the murder and expressed their regret and remorse for their actions. Theirs was the reaping of the bitter harvest that they sowed on that night when they took a man's life, and a little boy standing in court wept at the thought.
And let's remember too, and this is what the New Testament says a great deal about, that violence can assume many forms, as well as that of gun and bomb. There's the violence of word as well as of action.
And even if we aren't out on the streets disrupting society by what we do, our violence can be just as insidious through what we say. The public figure who indulges in provocative oratory and the quiet gossip who goes about his or her deadly work spreading lies or fostering hatred, stand side by side with the gunman, for they share in sowing the same seeds. But again, there comes the same big deep and searching question. When the bullying, the shouting and the destruction is over, what then? When violence has had its day and those fostering it or committed to it have had their moment of glory, what then? When the seeds of violence, sown in the heat of the noonday with the crowds by our side, is passed and the harvest must be reaped in the cold of the night alone, what then? When the devastation of words and of actions is over and violence stands stripped of its power before the God of judgement, what then? Then, in the words of the poet Keats,
“…then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.”
“Whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap.”
But the good news of the gospel is that there are other seeds, and so there can be another harvest.
Where do we find these seeds and how do we sow them?
Through coming to Jesus Christ, committing ourselves to following His way, allowing His Spirit to dwell in us, converting us to God. It's all a matter of decision, of the renewing experience of worship, of belonging to the fellowship of Christ's church, of growing in faith and living out the life of faith in our community, and then finding that we're not alone, for God is with us, and things begin to change as a result. And so, among the weeds, something else begins to grow, both in our own personal lives and in our society, the fruits of the Spirit.
And here and there, another kind of harvest begins to be reaped.
Let me be very personal just for a moment.
Maybe you don't come to church very often… It's not that you have anything against it, but well, things have been let slip a bit in this direction. Indeed, maybe harvest is the only time that we see you. On the other hand, maybe you're the kind of regular attender that's here every Sunday… Either way, maybe you're acutely aware at this moment that you've been sowing the wrong seeds in your life and you're reaping the wrong harvest. This is the hour of decision for you. Now, Jesus Christ confronts you with Himself, and you can't avoid Him, for His Spirit is too active, too persistent for that, but He doesn't come to judge or condemn. We needn't feel uncomfortable, for He comes to save us.
Now, at this moment, you can change your ways, radically alter your life.
You can let this moment pass. Do nothing about it. Just another service, another show. Leave them laughing when you go…
Or you can start now, sowing a new life, a life hidden in Christ, helping shape a better home, a better community, a better world, and moving towards eternity with God.
The alternative is another kind of life, another kind of home, another community, another world, another destiny.
With bated breath, even the angels in Heaven await your response.
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