Sowing the Seeds of Love

2026-41
sermon preached at Christ Church, Tacoma, WA
by the Rev. Josh Hosler, Guest Preacher

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 10A-tr 2), July 12, 2026

Genesis 25:19-34; Psalm 119:105-112; Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9,18-23

Good morning, all! I’m Josh Hosler, the Rector of the Church of the Good Shepherd in Federal Way. I’m grateful to Maria for entrusting you to me for this morning. But I’m not just here because Maria is away. I’m also here with the young singers of the Royal School of Church Music camp that has taken place over the past week on the campus of the University of Puget Sound.

This means I’m missing out on Tacoma Pride this year so that Maria could be fully present there. I’m happy for that swap. Last year at Pride I watched as Maria offered blessings and prayers, with healing oil, to those who passed by. Maria is at the garden of Pride today, sowing the seeds of love. Let anyone with ears listen!

As for me, I aspire to be a Pride ally. I don’t seek out the designation specifically. It’s a term that cannot be taken on oneself; it must be bestowed by others, and even then, it’s provisional and based not on my feelings, but on my real-life behaviors. Many folks I have met at Pride have been hurt deeply by the church and would never trust a straight cis man in a collar. I can’t say I blame them.

A lot of LGBTQ+ folks, however, have found a way to exchange an oppressive church environment for one in which they can truly put down roots and grow. The work of churches at Pride is to scatter seeds. Crucial to the task is to let go of our concern for the outcome of our work. We don’t scatter these seeds to assure that every one of them sprouts and grows. We scatter seeds all over the place because this is a faithful act. We always have plenty of seeds to scatter, because we are not the source of the seeds. We rely on a source that never runs out.

Even so, who exactly sows seeds of love at Pride? Do Christians show up at Pride because we have something that people need? It’s not wrong to think so—those of us who are thriving in churches include among us many LGBTQ+ people for whom the church has been a true lifeline, and who are already following the Way of Jesus into eternal life.

But let me tell you about something that happened to me a few years ago at Tacoma Pride. I said to somebody, “As a priest, I’m always ready to listen and ready to answer questions.” He said, “OK, then I have a question … Are you OK?”

The question caught me completely off guard. I had to take a moment to figure out whether it was somehow intended to be sarcastic. It wasn’t. He clarified: “I have to imagine that the pandemic has been really hard on church folks, and also that there’s so much hate you have to contend with among your fellow Christians.” Huh—this was an open question that called for my vulnerability. Yet I found that I wasn’t totally ready to be vulnerable. My first answer was, “It’s OK not to be OK!”

The man and his friends laughed and commended me for the answer, because it’s a common trope, and it’s also a good reminder. But I still hadn’t answered his question. I thought, “Wow, that is a deeply personal and compassionate question!” And my honest answer—which I did give next—surprised me: It was, “Why yes, I am OK, most of the time!” The worst of the pandemic was behind us, and in that moment I realized that a weight had lifted from me over the past year. Not until a total stranger asked me whether I was OK did I realize that I kinda sorta was.

So who was scattering seeds exactly? Who did I think I was, to assume that I was parachuting into a place that wasn’t intended for me, to bring something that might not be there otherwise?

Well, let’s put our other readings into conversation with all this talk about sowing seeds. Paul says in today’s passage from the Letter to the Romans, “There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” And he’s talking about baptism, meaning that Christians are free from the perceived power of sin over our lives. But Paul isn’t just saying, “Only those who have been baptized are OK.” He goes on to talk about “the things of the flesh” versus “the things of the Spirit.”

See, Paul writes using rhetorical devices. A binary like “flesh versus spirit” isn’t meant to sort people into two piles and pit them against one another, but to provide a way to help us analyze our own thoughts and actions. And importantly, “the things of the flesh” doesn’t mean “dirty human bodies.” “The things of the flesh” means “living a shortsighted, selfish way of life that hurts others.”

As we just heard from Genesis, Esau’s desire for lentil stew leads him to be shortsighted about his birthright. But Jacob acts even worse by plotting to victimize his none-too-bright twin brother. And there’s a lot more we could unpack about those two, but today, I just notice that the dysfunctional first family of our faith gives us lots of examples of how not to treat one another.

On the other hand, for Paul, “the things of the spirit” refers to God-given gifts that transform our character and get us beyond our immediate human desires, so that we can be a source of love in the lives of others. Jacob will gradually come to be more like this … but not right away. Stay tuned in the coming weeks for more Jacob stories; he’ll be with us on Sunday mornings for a while.

So “the things of the flesh” are power and control and scarcity and fear and lack of imagination. “The things of the spirit” are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness … and the kind of self-control that trusts there will be a moment beyond our immediate feelings … a future where these fruits continue to grow.

If I were to show up at Tacoma Pride with a self-serving agenda, motivated by fear of a shrinking church, or motivated by a desire to “fix people” and change the way they live their lives, I would be living according to “the things of the flesh.” And indeed, at Pride you can always count on seeing at least one annoying person on the sidelines with a big angry sign who is yelling at people and calling them sinners. Very fleshly behavior, if you ask me!

Ah, but can I tell you something that happened last year at Pride? Your rector Maria was praying with people, anointing them with healing oil, speaking words of assurance of God’s love. And then, that one annoying protester came right up to her and asked for a blessing. And she prayed over him—a man who does not even recognize her right to exist as God made her, let alone her ordination vows!

In that moment, I saw a seed sprout. Who knows what it will become?

There’s another place I see seeds sprouting, and that’s every year at the Royal School of Church Music choir camp. These young singers are bursting with talent, yes—but the purpose of this camp is not merely to help them develop their musical skills. And it’s certainly not to milk young people for their talent so we all hear lovely music this morning. The purpose of the camp is to sow seeds of love, using the medium of music.

I had a big a-ha moment just last night tht I just have to mention here, inspired by a conversation with a couple of our singers. A human life is very much like a piece of music. We unfold over time, from moment to moment. Looking at just one fleeting moment will not tell you who a person is. The beauty of being human is that the reality of our existence can only be comprehended in four dimensions. And the Christian claim of Resurrection suggests to me that even four dimensions may be far from the full reality! So we are all like pieces of music. Don’t skip to the next track. Keep listening as the beauty unfolds moment by moment, day by day, year by year.

Over the course of this week, I’ve watched strangers become friends, and I’ve watched friends from previous years reunite and draw closer. I’ve seen people who were going through a difficult feeling find someone to lean on. I’ve witnessed young people speaking courageous, loving words that nobody pressured them to speak.

All of this can happen in other settings too, of course—in school and on sports teams and in clubs. But at RSCM, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is our driving force. Even when life treats us badly, as Christians we don’t get to settle for hedging ourselves in with safety and standoffishness. We know the goal is to sow seeds of love everywhere—not just the places where we’re sure they’ll sprout. Honestly, I think we’re actively tilling the soil.

I hope I show up at Pride and at RSCM West because of the “things of the Spirit.” I want to be a welcomer, a listener, someone who comes to understand and appreciate and love people. So the sower goes out to sow, and the seeds land everywhere, and who knows what will happen to them? I hope some will sprout into Christian belief, into the daring leap of faith that assures us that the God who created all things has also come to be with us in the midst of all things and will never, ever abandon any one of us!

But the sower doesn’t need to worry about it, because the sack is deep and absolutely busting with seeds. There will be no need to ration them.

And when the harvest comes—whatever that may mean—the bumper crop may surprise a lot of people—especially when they learn that there was good soil in unexpected places. Amen.