The Parable of the Seeds

I found my birds and rocks and thorns
Not in the wide world’s fields and ways
But in the Church’s hallowed space
Where cares assault the one who prays.

The seeds of helpfulness I brought
Were quickly pecked and gobbled whole.
Committees, visits, groups and clubs:
Where was the time to grow my soul?

The seeds of change I hoped to sow,
For brighter worship, deepened prayer
Met rocky looks and shaking heads:
‘He’ll learn.’ My plans took no root there.

And gently germinating shoots
Of wisdom that could feed the flock,
Were crowded out by age old spats
And voices raised in rage or shock.

And yet the whispered voice of God,
The warm suffusing light of Christ,
The living water from the font
Of life, remained amidst the rest.

In side aisles, chapels, quiet talks,
In friendships forming strong and slow,
In fellowship and service shared
My faith found ground in which to grow.