Master Sower ...

"Tulip Moon," Timm O'Cobhthaigh

Timm wrote this in June 2003, and it seems that he intended to publish it somewhere. There is some bio information at the start which I've left out. The piece is raw - probably a first draft, with misspellings and errors in grammar. It seems to lack an ending, as if the work of the Master Sower in the story had only just begun to take root for Timm. Yet it is a declaration that good work had begun, and perhaps that is all we can say of our desire to work under the grace of God.

* * *

The Sower and The Seed
Timm O'Cobhthaigh
June 2003


Behold the sower went out to sow: ... and others fell among the thorns, and the thorns came up and choked them out. -- Matthew 13: 3,7 (NASB)


I still remember the summer afternoon when I first met a Seed Sower. The title would make you think that he would be an adult instead of the fellow seven-year-old he was. In an upstairs room, with the merriment of a party going on downstairs I accepted the seed he cast onto the eager soil of my child's heart. At first a single shoot broke the surface and over time the stalk of wheat began to reach for the sky. The soil of my childhood heart, like so many of that age, was rich and unencumbered by the many of life.

Unfortunately, the stalk was not alone. As it grew, other things began to sprout - weeds whose presence I had no idea about until much later. Some of the weeds bore beautiful flowers of red and blue, sweet to smell, hiding their deadly nature. Eventually they were as big as I was, filling the shared soil with their roots, robbing me of the substance to grow and crowding the sun from my view.

"Where did all these weeds come from?" I cried in despair to the night sky, wondering if my words ever broke the covering of green now above me.

The more I wanted to bear fruit, the less I was able to, due the vines that threatened to strangle me. Vines of bitterness long held, psychic wounds from childhood -- abuses, abandonments and needs never met, now controlling all I did. What I wanted to do I couldn't; instead, the weeds gained more and more control.

The giant Sequoia trees of the central California highlands loomed above a cluster of cabins that good termed my mission-field, including the fellow workers at the lodge where I worked. I was there to cast the seed. When at first their hearts were open and receptive, I found a joy like none other. A desperate hunger for the word of life confronted me as a malnourished child begging for a handout.

But the weeds were thick about me.

I would cast seed, I would water and tend the garden I was given: but eventually I began to grow tired from my labors. It was at this moment that the weeds exerted their control.

"Try this, it will refresh you," they would whisper in the same voice that caused the first fall.

Knowing it to be sin I still capitulated - what was I to do? At first the joy I felt but then a piercing bolt of conviction and to my knees I fell in shame. I confessed and I vowed, but I didn't address the weeds. I also didn't notice there were now more of them.

This scene repeated itself over and over again in my life: stepping out to spread the seed, reaching for the life God was providing -- only to find myself hampered and controlled by what grew around me. Eventually, I had a hard time hearing the Master Sower. His presence seemed but a memory.

Then one day a wind blew through the garden of my life, pulling aside the weeds that towered above and revealing the truth of their existence. The choices I'd made bowing to their demands became clear. Again to the ground I sank, begging forgivness.

"To ask to be cleansed is good, but repentence will require finding why you keep doing what you are doing," the Master Sower said.

As quickly as the wind had pulled the weeds aside, they fought back to keep their control.

"It is not your fault that you do what you do given the heartaches you have had," they hissed. But for the first time I began to see them for what they were - weeds. In that moment of clarity I began to see how they had grown around me, planted by the sins of others but nourished by the choices I made.

For a time they continued to grow, and likewise I continued to watch them dictate what I would do. Eventually a vine called despair that had grown slowly about my base, wound its way up my life and began to whisper in my ears.

"This will never change, you will never be fulfilled. The weeds have control," It would say. At first I refused to believe it but the truth of all the failures of my life just proved its point.

"There really is only one option, the ultimate option," it hissed, tightening its grip even stronger.

Deep down I knew the weed was right. I just couldn't live like this anymore. The pain of my failures were too great. In that moment of clarity I began to plan my demise.

Somehow in the middle of this I had forgotten that I was surrounded by weeds. They clung to me, crowding my roots out of the soil and blocking the sun from my leaves. As before a wind blew, parting the foliage above exposing me to the presence of the Master Sower.

"The problem is you are surrounded by weeds and they are killing you," He calmly told me.

Something clicked inside. I had heard his many times by the different gardeners that worked the soil but paid it little heed. Now I knew this was true. I couldn't wish them away, nor could I deny their existence.

"Oh great Sower, mercy. Please have mercy," I pleaded.

He was quite for a moment and with a calm voice denied my request.

"Don't ask for mercy, because what you ask is to be removed form your plight, and I need you to walk through it. Instead pray for my grace to walk though it."

I tried to be indignant but couldn't. Instead I asked for grace.

Shortly after this a new gardener entered the plot where I was, but unbeknownst to me, he bore the skills at removing weeds. I learned to first admit that there were weeds that surrounded me, then submit to the Master Sower's meticulous removal of each one.