Summary
In this week’s service, Rev. Steve Mcllaine explores the difficult question of why evil seems to exist alongside goodness and why God does not immediately remove it from the world. Reflecting on the parable of the wheat and the weeds, he illustrates how our desire for immediate justice can often overlook God’s greater plan. Just as the farmer allowed the weeds to remain to protect the integrity of the wheat, we are reminded that God’s timing is different than our own, working within the complexities of a world where both beauty and brokenness coexist.
Rev. Mcllaine further encourages the congregation to look inward, acknowledging that believers are simultaneously saints and sinners. Rather than spending our energy condemning darkness or judging others based on their mistakes, he calls us to focus on growing like “good wheat”—bearing fruit through compassion, forgiveness, and Christ’s light. By trusting in God’s infinite patience and the promise of a future harvest, we can live with hope, knowing that God is actively working to transform lives and will eventually make all things right.
One of the hardest things for Christians to understand is why evil seems to exist along goodness. We ask questions like, why do bad things happen to good people? Why do dishonest people seem to prosper? And why doesn’t God just remove evil from the world? These aren’t new questions; as a matter of fact, Jesus’s disciples were asking these same questions. So Jesus tells them a story: a farmer had carefully planted good wheat in his field. Everything was done right, just like he had said—the seed is good, the soil was ready, and the future looks promising. But while everyone was asleep, an enemy secretly comes into the field and plants weeds among the wheat. When the plants began to grow, the servants noticed a problem. “All right? So, master,” they asked, “did you sow good seeds? Where did these weeds come enough from?” The farmer answered simply, “The enemy has done this.”
Then comes this surprising part, right? The workers immediately offer to pull up the weeds, but the farmer says, “No, don’t do it.” Why? Why would he say that? Because the roots of the weeds and the wheat had become intertwined. Pulling the weeds now would pull out the wheat as well. So instead, he says, let both grow together until the harvest is ready. That isn’t how we want a story to end, is it? Nah. We wanted immediate justice. That evil person should be paying for this, right? Or we want the wrongs corrected today—justice right now. We want evil to be removed right now. But Jesus says God’s timing is different than ours.
The world Jesus describes in today’s parable is remarkably like ours, isn’t it? Think about it for a minute. There’s beauty, there’s kindness, there’s faithful people serving everywhere, every day. Yet alongside them is violence, hatred, greed, dishonesty, selfishness. Sometimes those weeds grow very close to us, don’t they? Sometimes they’re in our workplaces. Sometimes they’re in our communities. Sometimes they’re even in our own families. And if we’re honest with ourselves, sometimes those weeds grow in our own lives. Martin Luther once said that believers are simultaneously saints and sinners. God has planted grace within us, but we continue to $struggle with temptation and sin. Every day, we find ourselves asking forgiveness for things that we’ve said or things that we’ve done or things that we’ve just failed to do. This parable isn’t only about looking out at our world; it’s also about looking inward, inside us.
The servants wanted to solve the problem. They wanted to solve it immediately. They thought that they knew exactly what needed to be done to remove those weeds, right? But the farmer knew something that they didn’t. You see, human beings aren’t always very good judges. We kind of get emotional sometimes and let things get in the way of making good judgments. How often have we judged somebody too quickly? How often have we written somebody off just because they make one mistake? How often have we assumed that someone could never change? Yet throughout Scripture, we see God transforming people no one ever expected: Moses—Moses was a murderer; Paul—Paul persecuted Christians; David—David committed adultery; Peter—Peter denied Jesus. Yet God wasn’t finished with them. Had someone pulled the weeds out back then, the world would have never been able to witness what God was doing through these lives.
God sees possibilities that we cannot see. Perhaps the greatest lesson in today’s gospel is God’s patience. God could force judgment today if he wanted to. Instead, he offers another day, another sunrise, another opportunity for repentance, another chance to receive his grace. Every day we wake up is evidence of God’s mercy. Peter writes, “The Lord is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” What patience God has shown us, each and every one of us. There are moments in our lives when we wander far from God—moments when we’ve doubted the existence, moments when we’ve failed to be obedient. Yet God never stopped calling us back. He says, “Come on.” His arms are always open, ready to receive us. His mercy kept reaching towards us. Come back. That same mercy is extended to everyone: even addicts, even homeless, even good people who are doing everything right.
But notice something important. That wheat doesn’t spend its time worrying about the weeds, does it? No. It just simply keeps growing and growing and growing until it’s ready, right? So what if Christians spent less energy condemning darkness and more energy shining Christ’s light? What happens in a dark room when you turn on the lights? The darkness goes away, doesn’t it? Yeah. Imagine churches known for compassion instead of criticism. Imagine believers recognized for forgiveness rather than judgment. Imagine communities where people see Jesus because they experience his love through us. That’s what healthy wheat does. It grows. It bears fruit and it nourishes others.
Years ago, a church welcomed a man who had lived a difficult life. He had struggled with addictions, spent time in jail, carried with him some deep regrets. Some people wondered if he really belonged there. But one older member simply welcomed him every Sunday. She remembered his name. She saved him a seat, prayed for him faithfully. She never rushed or tried to force change. She just simply reflected Christ’s love. Months turned into years. Slowly, his life began to change. Eventually, he found some steady work, repaired relationships that had been broken with his family, and eventually, he began helping others who were facing the same struggles that he had gone through. If people had judged only by what they first saw, they might have missed what God was growing. Patient love becomes the soil where new life takes root. Let me say it again: patient love becomes the soil where new life takes root. God’s grace is often at work slowly, but it works deeply.
Now, Jesus doesn’t end with uncertainty. He doesn’t say this is the end. He says there will be a harvest. There will come a day when God will make things all right. Justice will finally prevail. Every tear will be wiped away. Every wrong will be corrected. Every act of faithfulness will be remembered. Until then, we live with hope. Not because evil wins, but because Christ already has. The cross looked like defeat. The empty tomb declared victory. The resurrection reminds us that God’s final word is never death. It is always life.
Here’s my conclusion: We live in a field where wheat and weeds grow together. That is our life. There will always be disappointments. There will always be struggles. There will always be people who hurt us, yet there will always be grace. There will always be forgiveness, and there will always be an opportunity for new life. So let us leave the judging to God when it comes to those things, and let us trust His timing in those matters, and let us keep growing like good wheat. Let us keep bearing fruits so that others may know him, and let us remember that the farmer who planted the good seeds is still watching over his fields, caring for every stalk of wheat, and preparing for the day when the harvest is complete. Until that day, may we remain faithful, rooted in Christ, growing in love, and shining with hope for other people to see. Amen? Amen.
Let us pray. Gracious and loving God, thank you for your patience with us. We confess that we often want quick answers and swift justice, yet you teach us to trust your wisdom and your timing. Help us to grow as faithful disciples, rooted in your love and bearing fruit of kindness, mercy, and compassion. Give us hearts that are slow to judge and eager to forgive. Strengthen us to live with hope as we await the day when Christ will make all things anew. Until that glorious harvest, keep us faithful in your service. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, we pray. Amen. Amen.
One of the hardest things for Christians to understand is why evil seems to exist along goodness. We ask questions like, why do bad things happen to good people? Why do dishonest people seem to prosper? And why doesn’t God just remove evil from the world? These aren’t new questions; as a matter of fact, Jesus’s disciples were asking these same questions. So Jesus tells them a story: a farmer had carefully planted good wheat in his field. Everything was done right, just like he had said—the seed is good, the soil was ready, and the future looks promising. But while everyone was asleep, an enemy secretly comes into the field and plants weeds among the wheat. When the plants began to grow, the servants noticed a problem. “All right? So, master,” they asked, “did you sow good seeds? Where did these weeds come enough from?” The farmer answered simply, “The enemy has done this.”
Then comes this surprising part, right? The workers immediately offer to pull up the weeds, but the farmer says, “No, don’t do it.” Why? Why would he say that? Because the roots of the weeds and the wheat had become intertwined. Pulling the weeds now would pull out the wheat as well. So instead, he says, let both grow together until the harvest is ready. That isn’t how we want a story to end, is it? Nah. We wanted immediate justice. That evil person should be paying for this, right? Or we want the wrongs corrected today—justice right now. We want evil to be removed right now. But Jesus says God’s timing is different than ours.
The world Jesus describes in today’s parable is remarkably like ours, isn’t it? Think about it for a minute. There’s beauty, there’s kindness, there’s faithful people serving everywhere, every day. Yet alongside them is violence, hatred, greed, dishonesty, selfishness. Sometimes those weeds grow very close to us, don’t they? Sometimes they’re in our workplaces. Sometimes they’re in our communities. Sometimes they’re even in our own families. And if we’re honest with ourselves, sometimes those weeds grow in our own lives. Martin Luther once said that believers are simultaneously saints and sinners. God has planted grace within us, but we continue to $struggle with temptation and sin. Every day, we find ourselves asking forgiveness for things that we’ve said or things that we’ve done or things that we’ve just failed to do. This parable isn’t only about looking out at our world; it’s also about looking inward, inside us.
The servants wanted to solve the problem. They wanted to solve it immediately. They thought that they knew exactly what needed to be done to remove those weeds, right? But the farmer knew something that they didn’t. You see, human beings aren’t always very good judges. We kind of get emotional sometimes and let things get in the way of making good judgments. How often have we judged somebody too quickly? How often have we written somebody off just because they make one mistake? How often have we assumed that someone could never change? Yet throughout Scripture, we see God transforming people no one ever expected: Moses—Moses was a murderer; Paul—Paul persecuted Christians; David—David committed adultery; Peter—Peter denied Jesus. Yet God wasn’t finished with them. Had someone pulled the weeds out back then, the world would have never been able to witness what God was doing through these lives.
God sees possibilities that we cannot see. Perhaps the greatest lesson in today’s gospel is God’s patience. God could force judgment today if he wanted to. Instead, he offers another day, another sunrise, another opportunity for repentance, another chance to receive his grace. Every day we wake up is evidence of God’s mercy. Peter writes, “The Lord is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” What patience God has shown us, each and every one of us. There are moments in our lives when we wander far from God—moments when we’ve doubted the existence, moments when we’ve failed to be obedient. Yet God never stopped calling us back. He says, “Come on.” His arms are always open, ready to receive us. His mercy kept reaching towards us. Come back. That same mercy is extended to everyone: even addicts, even homeless, even good people who are doing everything right.
But notice something important. That wheat doesn’t spend its time worrying about the weeds, does it? No. It just simply keeps growing and growing and growing until it’s ready, right? So what if Christians spent less energy condemning darkness and more energy shining Christ’s light? What happens in a dark room when you turn on the lights? The darkness goes away, doesn’t it? Yeah. Imagine churches known for compassion instead of criticism. Imagine believers recognized for forgiveness rather than judgment. Imagine communities where people see Jesus because they experience his love through us. That’s what healthy wheat does. It grows. It bears fruit and it nourishes others.
Years ago, a church welcomed a man who had lived a difficult life. He had struggled with addictions, spent time in jail, carried with him some deep regrets. Some people wondered if he really belonged there. But one older member simply welcomed him every Sunday. She remembered his name. She saved him a seat, prayed for him faithfully. She never rushed or tried to force change. She just simply reflected Christ’s love. Months turned into years. Slowly, his life began to change. Eventually, he found some steady work, repaired relationships that had been broken with his family, and eventually, he began helping others who were facing the same struggles that he had gone through. If people had judged only by what they first saw, they might have missed what God was growing. Patient love becomes the soil where new life takes root. Let me say it again: patient love becomes the soil where new life takes root. God’s grace is often at work slowly, but it works deeply.
Now, Jesus doesn’t end with uncertainty. He doesn’t say this is the end. He says there will be a harvest. There will come a day when God will make things all right. Justice will finally prevail. Every tear will be wiped away. Every wrong will be corrected. Every act of faithfulness will be remembered. Until then, we live with hope. Not because evil wins, but because Christ already has. The cross looked like defeat. The empty tomb declared victory. The resurrection reminds us that God’s final word is never death. It is always life.
Here’s my conclusion: We live in a field where wheat and weeds grow together. That is our life. There will always be disappointments. There will always be struggles. There will always be people who hurt us, yet there will always be grace. There will always be forgiveness, and there will always be an opportunity for new life. So let us leave the judging to God when it comes to those things, and let us trust His timing in those matters, and let us keep growing like good wheat. Let us keep bearing fruits so that others may know him, and let us remember that the farmer who planted the good seeds is still watching over his fields, caring for every stalk of wheat, and preparing for the day when the harvest is complete. Until that day, may we remain faithful, rooted in Christ, growing in love, and shining with hope for other people to see. Amen? Amen.
Let us pray. Gracious and loving God, thank you for your patience with us. We confess that we often want quick answers and swift justice, yet you teach us to trust your wisdom and your timing. Help us to grow as faithful disciples, rooted in your love and bearing fruit of kindness, mercy, and compassion. Give us hearts that are slow to judge and eager to forgive. Strengthen us to live with hope as we await the day when Christ will make all things anew. Until that glorious harvest, keep us faithful in your service. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, we pray. Amen. Amen.