A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 26, 2026
Acts 2:14a, 36-41, 1 Peter 2:20b-25, John 10:1-10
About 15 years ago, our front lawn was green and lush. For about three weeks. A legitimate showpiece, just begging for us to walk barefoot and let the silky blades tickle our toes. Woohoo! We even sorta-kinda played badminton, until we lost all the birdies.
In the 23 years before that, and in the 15 years since, our postage-stamp-size patch of earth has looked more like the fur on a dog with mange.
So this year, I hired someone to rip out the crabgrass, sprinkle some topsoil and starter fertilizer, and scatter some grass seed. In March. After the snow, but only shortly afterward. Yeah, with all that crazy weather.
Even so, I watered it faithfully according to the landscaper’s instructions.
Ya know that cliché about how boring it is to watch grass grow? It’s even more boring to watch grass not grow.
Have patience, the landscaper said. The grass will grow.
And he was right, up to a point. Some grass is growing, a shoot here, a mangy little shard there.
And so, I’m being patient, or at least trying to be. Which is not my nature, not even close.
Which is not the way so many of us are in our 21st-century 80-mile-an-hour Garden State Parkway world.
Which is not the way the early disciples of Jesus Christ were, either.
They knew the capital-T Truth. They were sent forth to preach and teach the Good News to all the nations. They were empowered to heal bodies and souls, to forgive or retain sins, to point The Way to salvation and bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth.
So why were so many people ignoring them, or worse? Why did the disciples, those men and women who saw firsthand what the Son of God did for all of humankind, have such a hassle gathering a flock? It wasn’t even a case of people not buying what the disciples were selling, because they were sharing Christ’s love for free.
It turns out that, just like coaxing some scattered seeds to grow into a green carpet of the sun, it takes time, patience and persistence to grow scattered people into the Body of the Son of God.
To craft the wonders of Western Civilization.
To change the world for the better.
How frustrating is that?
By the way, when I was in college, two of my friends named their small potted palm “Frust,” because it grew frustratingly slowly in their dorm room.
After 2,000 years, some things never change.
So: boredom watching the grass grow, or not. Impatience, seeing little progress. Frustration, knowing how good lawns — and lives — should be, but aren’t.
At many times in our lives, we find ourselves at a crossroad, at a hurdle, at a decision point, just as our ancestors in faith did. We can give up, chuck it all, chalk it up to a bad investment of time and effort and maybe money, and kick ourselves for even trying.
Trying to grow a lawn. Trying to share our faith by living our faith. Trying to walk in the Light of Christ and live the Law of Love. Just trying to be good people in every aspect of our lives.
Yeah, what’s the point?
Or we can remember that, when he was carrying hundreds of pounds of wood and zillions of our sins, Jesus hauled himself up again after he fell. All three times.
We can draw on the infinite flood of God’s grace to keep going, just as our Savior and his first followers did. We know the capital-T Truth. We, too, have been sent forth to preach and teach the Good News to all the nations. We have been commanded to be patient and persistent.
We can remind ourselves that falling isn’t failing if we get back up.
In every aspect of our lives.
In our diverse, interesting, fascinating and often humdrum lives.
Sometimes we need course corrections. Fortunately, we all were created with the ability to look at ourselves and figure out how we could be better, kinder, more efficient, more grateful. To figure out if we could be using our skills and talents to their fullest.
Sometimes we need an extra effort. If the lawn, or the family of God, isn’t growing fully, then we can pick ourselves up and toss around a few more seeds, literally or figuratively.
Jesus told a few superb parables about getting seeds to germinate and grow deep roots. His parables remind us that, even though not all actual or metaphorical seeds grow, we have to keep trying. We have to put the right seeds in the right places and give them everything they need to grow.
In soil. In souls.
We are challenged to invest time and effort into loving God and loving our neighbors as ourselves, and to leave this fragile Earth better than we found it. If we do, our patience will pay dividends.
Eventually.
