When I was a child, I used to read stories of missionaries who went to Africa and dreamed of being one. But the missionaries were all men… their wives were nurses or teachers… and I had no desire to be either of those.

Little did I know as a child of 10 years, the God was already there! That Africa knew Jesus long before my ancestors did. The dream of coming to Africa never died though. I heard about its beauty… I heard about its strength…I heard about its complexity and its history. And something kept stirring inside me… Over time, that stirring became a quiet dream.

And that dream slowly became a calling —
a calling to care about global hunger,
a calling to care about justice,
a calling to care about how we are connected across oceans.

Standing in the church in Africa, I realized something important, it was not simply a dream fulfilled. It was a seed that was planted long ago. And like all seeds, it took time to grow. But that day and that astounding visit to Kenya was not about my dream. It was about what God is doing, in the soil of Kenya. In their soil… in their communities, and between our countries. Though there is a great distance between our countries, the soil connects us.

Today we hear a story about soil. Jesus begins with simple words: “A sower went out to sow.” The people listening to Jesus would have understood immediately. They knew what sowing meant…Sowing is not casual. Sowing is not careless… Sowing is not guaranteed. Sowing is work… Sowing is risk…Sowing is faith. When a farmer sows seed, that farmer gives something away. The seed leaves the hand… The seed enters the ground. The seed disappears from sight…There is no guarantee. There is only hope.

Jesus says the sower scatters seed everywhere. On the path… On rocky ground… Among thorns… On good soil. Some of the seed never enters the ground. Some of the seed springs up quickly but cannot survive. Some of the seed grows but is choked. And some of the seed multiplies beyond expectation.

This is not only a story about farming. It is a story about God. And it is a story about us. In some parts of the world, people hear this story as only a spiritual metaphor. But in Kenya, this story touches real experience. Kenyans know the weight of a bag of seed in their hands. They know what it costs to purchase it. They know what it means to choose the right time to plant. They know that the soil must be prepared. Hard ground must be broken… Clods must be turned…Weeds must be cleared.

They know that when they plant, they are planting provision for their family. They are planting school fees…They are planting stability…They are planting hope. And they know uncertainty. They know that the rain may be delayed. They know that too much rain can destroy. They know that pests can come. They know that markets can change. Planting is faith lived with open hands. And Jesus speaks this story to people who knew that reality.

Before we talk about the soil, we must first look at the sower. The sower in Jesus’ story is generous. The sower does not test each piece of ground carefully. The sower does not say, “I will only plant where success is certain.” The sower scatters widely. This tells us something powerful about God. God is the sower. God is generous. God is not calculating grace. God is not measuring mercy carefully. God gives freely. God gives to the faithful. God gives to the doubtful. God gives to the strong. God gives to the exhausted. God gives to the joyful. God gives to the grieving. God scatters love in abundance. This is good news! Because none of us is perfect soil.

Sometimes our hearts are like the path… Life has pressed us down. Responsibilities have pressed us down… Loss has pressed us down. Repeated hardship can make the heart hard… When soil becomes hard, seed cannot enter. When hearts become hard, hope struggles to enter. Sometimes our hearts are like rocky ground. There is enthusiasm… There is quick growth…There is visible response. But beneath the surface there are stones… Unresolved fear… Unhealed wounds… Hidden doubts. When the heat comes… and heat always comes… roots are not deep enough.

Sometimes our hearts are like thorny ground. The seed grows… Faith begins… Hope begins. But worries grow faster…. Concern for children… Concern for land…. Concern for finances… Concern for safety…. Concern for the future…The thorns compete for space. And they choke what could have flourished.

Jesus is not condemning the soil. He is naming reality. He is inviting reflection. Because soil can change. Hard ground can be broken open. Rocks can be removed. Thorns can be cleared. Farmers know this. It takes effort. It takes tools. It takes time. But transformation is possible. And so is spiritual transformation.

Now let us look carefully at the good soil. Jesus says the good soil produces thirty, sixty, even one hundredfold. That is multiplication. That is abundance. That is more than survival. It is important to notice something: The seed is the same in every place. The difference is not the seed.

The Word of God is powerful everywhere. The love of God is powerful everywhere. The justice of God is powerful everywhere. The difference is in reception. So we ask gently: Where is God inviting me to deepen my roots? Where is God inviting my community to clear thorns? Where is God inviting us to soften hardened places? These questions are not about guilt. They are about growth. Because good soil does not happen by accident. It is cultivated.

It was the partnership with Canadian Foodgrains Bank that took me to Africa. Some farmers in Canada plant crops in their own fields. They harvest them. They sell them. And they share the proceeds through the Canadian Foodgrains Bank. But this is not a story of charity flowing in one direction. This is a story of shared vulnerability. Our farmers in Canada watch the sky too. They worry about drought too. They worry about flooding too. They worry about market prices too. They also live with uncertainty. And yet they choose to plant. They choose to share. This is sowing beyond borders. This is sowing in trust that we belong to one another. When one part of the body suffers, all suffer. When one part rejoices, all rejoice. People in Canada and people in Kenya are not strangers. We are members of one body in Christ.

We do not control the rain… But we control whether we plant. We do not control global systems…But we control whether we respond with compassion. We do not control the future…But we control whether we sow hope and joy…

Every act of generosity is a seed… Every partnership is a seed. Every child nourished is a seed… Every client treated with dignity at Foodbank is a seed! Every community strengthened is a seed… Every PIE Day celebrated is a seed! Every advocacy effort is a seed… Every Wellness Wednesday is a seed. Every prayer spoken is a seed. Together, we are sowing hope. Tunapanda tumaini. We are sowing hope.

There is something else about seeds. Seeds disappear before they grow. When you plant a seed, it goes into darkness. It is buried. It looks like loss. It looks like disappearance. But underground, something powerful is happening. The seed breaks open. What once was closed must open. What once was whole must crack. Growth begins in hidden places. Sometimes our lives feel like buried seeds. We feel unseen. We feel hidden. We feel uncertain. But God works underground. God works in hidden places. God brings life from what looks like burial. The seed must break open to become a plant. Sometimes our hearts must break open too. Sometimes our plans must break open. Sometimes our expectations must change. And in that breaking, new life begins.

When I was young, the idea of going to Africa was small. It was a quiet thought. It was a curiosity. I did not know that God was planting something. Over time, through learning about food justice, through involvement in global hunger work, through prayer, that seed grew. There were years when it seemed distant. There were years when it seemed unlikely. But seeds grow slowly. And in February I landed in a country because of something planted long ago. And every day I pinched myself and told myself, “You are really here!”

Perhaps God has planted seeds in you too. A hope for your children’s or your grandchildren’s future. A vision for ending homelessness. A desire to serve your community. A calling that feels small. Do not despise small beginnings. A seed looks insignificant. But inside that small seed is multiplication. Inside that seed is harvest. Inside that seed is tomorrow.

The sower does not see the harvest on the same day. Planting requires patience. Faith requires patience. Partnership requires patience. Some of the fruit of what we do together, we may never see. But that does not mean it is not growing. The kingdom of God grows quietly. Not always with headlines…. Not always with dramatic signs…. But steadily… Faithfully… Under the surface. Some harvest we will see. Some harvest our children will see. Some harvest belongs to generations not yet born. But every seed matters. Every act of faithfulness matters. Every planting matters.

So may we be good soil. May our hearts remain open. May our roots grow deep. May we clear away fear when it threatens to choke hope. May we break open hardened places with courage. May we trust the God who scatters generously. And may we be generous sowers too. Scattering kindness. Scattering justice. Scattering partnership. Scattering courage. Scattering joy. Tunapanda tumaini. We are sowing hope. And the God who sows abundantly is faithful to bring in the harvest.

Thanks be to God for the challenge and the opportunity, amen.

Matthew 13:1–23
April 19, 2026 – SJ

© Catherine MacDonald