In the Gospel of Mark, the very first parable Jesus tells involves a sower and his seeds. Some seeds fall along the path where they don’t even stand a chance, as they are immediately gobbled up by the birds. Other seeds reach soil and initially seem to thrive; but a few days in the Texas sun soon has them dying of thirst. Still other seeds fall among the weeds, and try as they might, the competition finally kills them. And then there are those seeds—those precious few seeds, it would seem—that actually hit pay dirt!

I don’t know if you are like me, but whenever I hear this parable, I can’t help wondering what kind of soil I most resemble. Am I the person who wants to be faithful, but my faith keeps getting choked out by worries, fears, and regrets? Or am I the person who is forever being gobbled up by distractions, so that my day is already half spent before I even have a chance to figure out how I am supposed to be spending it.

I’m probably not alone in asking such questions, but they may be the wrong questions for this particular parable. After all, it’s not the “Parable of the Soils,” it’s the “Parable of the Sower”—which means that it is not really about our successes or failures.

This is a story about the merciful extravagance of God, who seems astonishingly willing to keep flinging seeds of grace and love, regardless of where they might land. It is a story about how God doesn’t pay much attention to what the Farmers’ Almanac predicts in terms of a crop’s “growth potential.” Instead, the good Lord just keeps reaching into the bag and casting fertile seeds of kindness and truth everywhere.

To which I say, “Thanks be to God that we have a Sower who keeps sowing seeds, despite what kind of soil I happen to be at the time!”