The Rev. Dr. John Tamilio III, Pastor
I live about a mile from Gordon College, a private Christian school. I use their library frequently and recently check-out a book called What If Christianity Is True: Evidence Beyond a Reasonable Doubt by Dr. Patrick Morley. This is part of that whole philosophy of religion subject that I love so much. Philosophers of religion look at evidence that suggests God exists. We just spent a whole Bible Study talking about this. Anyway, in this book, Dr. Morley talks about a phenomenon that you may have experienced before — I know I have. The idea is that even when we find success in life and enjoy blissful moments, there still feels as if there is something missing. It feels as if there is more joy to attain — a heightened sense of elation that eludes us. Morley writes, “Ironically, many of us feel like our lives are futile, not because we didn’t get what we wanted, but because we did.”[1] He continues: “Both success and failure can leave us feeling empty.”[2]
Have you had that feeling before? It isn’t just related to work. It’s anything in life. You are having a great time with your friends, but part of you (deep within) laments the fact that either this moment will end or it could be even better. I usually feel the latter: as fun as the moment is, there is a sense that the joy could be more intense and, therefore, more satisfying.
The fact is this: there is a void in our life that can only be filled by God. It is a void that cannot be filled by stuff or even other people. This is not just about happiness. It is about a deeper fulfillment — an overarching purpose to life that no person, place, or thing can fill.
When our lives are saturated by God, they have an unmatched sense of purpose and direction. Just as a child has a natural connection to his mother, we have a natural connection to God: our eternal parent. It is a bond that seems coded in our DNA. It makes sense, if you think about it: the child came from his mother — she created him. We came from God — he created us. Saint Augustine was right when he said, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee, O Lord.”[3]
So why do earthly pleasures not cut it? Why is it that the more joy we experience, we still seem to be lacking something? Something better, something more intense, more profound seems to be just out of reach. At the core, it is us wanting more of something we already tasted. I am not talking about a more spectacular event, a better vacation, more excitement. It has to do with our relationship with God. That relationship is one that we have not experienced to its fulness, but having caught a glimpse of it, we know what’s possible; we know what awaits us.
That glimpse happens for us at different times and at different frequencies. Maybe it was the first time you read the Bible and found it speaking directly to you. Or maybe it was when you saw a child born. Or maybe it was the spiritual stars just seemed to align and everything made sense. Whatever it was, you wanted more of it. Who wouldn’t!
But the problem is that we do not (and maybe we cannot) live in such a blissful, ethereal state forever. We get tastes and peeks of it every now and then, and it drives us to want more. Remember the story of the Transfiguration? The reason why Peter, James, and John want to remain on top of the mountain with Jesus, Moses, and Elijah forever is because it was such an astonishing, awe-inspiring moment. Who wouldn’t want to stay there!
But they couldn’t. They had to descend the mountain, roll up their sleeves and get to work. We have to do the same thing. Life makes many demands that contend for our attention. How wonderful it would be if we could remain in that transcendental, blissful moment.
But we can, in some way, recreate it. This, at least in part, is what the parable of the sower is all about. The most abundant crops come from the seed that fell upon good soil.
As you read this parable, you see that there are four types of soil: a hard-beaten path, rocky ground, thorny ground, and good soil. In the second half of the parable, Jesus explains what each type of ground represents. The idea is for us to be (or to become) good soil. We become them by moving beyond the temporal nature of sensory experience: meaning, the we need to transcend the earthly mountaintop experiences that we sometimes feel and, even when we do, we know we want more, as Dr. Morley reminds us.
We become good soil by becoming saturated with the Gospel. When I water my lawn, I pay special attention to the dry, brown spots. I douse them with water. When the surrounding soil is soaked, the water begins bubbling up and running all over the lawn and onto the driveway creating a river that begins rolling down the street. That is the image — the image of being filled to the brim with the Gospel that it exudes from us and flows everywhere. That’s what I want. I think it is safe to assume that this is what we all want.
It isn’t going to be happen by having a casual faith: meaning you go to church on Sunday and maybe say a prayer before dinner and listen to classic hymns on Spotify or Apple iTunes. It requires the seed that is God’s Words to be planted deep within your soul and to be watered regularly by being immersed in Scripture and living a life that is prayerful. I love what Eugene Peterson — the principal translator of The Message — I love what Peterson says about this. In his book The Contemplative Pastor, he writes, “I need a drenching in Scripture; I require an immersion in biblical studies. I need reflective hours over the pages of Scripture as well as personal struggles with the meaning of Scripture.”[4] Granted, Peterson says he needs this to do faithful pastoral work, but I would say that this is necessary for all Christian who want their souls nourished in deep, rich, fertile soil.
Jesus is the sower. He has planted his truth in our hearts. Our life of faith (everything we do) enables us to water and tend to that which will bud, grow, and flourish. It is not a one-time thing. It is to develop what the theologian Edward Farley calls a habitus, that which sociologists call a habit (as the name suggests), the development of a particular character, a way of being. This is our calling. This is our quest. This is where true joy is found. Amen.
[1] Patrick Morley, PhD, What If Christianity Is True: Evidence Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (Winter Park: Integrity Books, 2025), 2.
[2] Ibid., 3.
[3] Augustine, Confessions (opening).
[4] Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Grand Rapids: William B, Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1993), 20.