The Soil of our Souls

In our junk drawer, I found a packet of wildflower seeds. I received them at a wedding years ago and never got around to planting them. Over the last couple weeks, I spend time assembling a couple new raised garden beds, and thought it might be time to plant these wildflowers. I read the instructions on the packet and smiled: "Just throw them into the dirt, they'll know what to do!"

I was delightfully surprised because of the simplicity of the directions. No tilling, watering, or fertilizing. Just throw it and watch it grow. The seeds have been conditioned by generations of wild living that they can learn to work with just about any type of soil.

Each time I read the parable of the sower in Mark chapter four, I am astounded at the simplicity of the story. Jesus describes a farmer scattering seed that lands on four kinds of ground. Some seed is snatched, some withers, some is choked, and some flourishes in ways that surprise everyone. He ends the story with a call that is as urgent today as it was then: “Whoever has ears to hear, let them listen.”

My work as a spiritual director often centers on that listening. People come wanting to know how to hear God in the middle of deadlines, decisions, and disappointments. They rarely need more information. They need soil that can receive the Word. The parable offers four pictures that help us notice what is happening beneath the surface of our lives.

The Path: When the Heart Feels Numb

The seed that falls on the path never penetrates. Birds carry it away before it can even break the skin of the earth. Many of us know this experience. We read scripture or sing worship songs yet nothing moves. Our schedules are loud. Our fears are louder. We skim along the top of life and wonder why God feels distant. In direction I sometimes invite a directee to sit for two minutes and simply notice their breathing. The goal is not performance but slowing down enough for a single phrase of scripture to sink below the noise. If the soil feels hard today do not shame yourself. Begin with gentleness. Give God unhurried attention and ask Him to soften the ground.

The Shallow Soil: Joy Without Roots

Next Jesus describes rocky soil that allows a quick sprout but no depth. When heat arrives the plant collapses. This is the Bible study that thrills us on Monday and evaporates by Thursday, the conference high that fades when real life resumes, the resolution that wilts at the first resistance. Depth takes time. It grows through rhythms that are consistent rather than spectacular: morning gratitude, evening examen, honest friendship. One practical step is to keep a small journal of how the day’s scripture reading intersects your actual experiences. Over weeks you begin to trace roots that hold even when pressure rises.

The Thorny Ground: Competing Loves

Among thorns the seed germinates yet is crowded by worries, wealth, and desires. The plant lives but never bears fruit. This image is painfully relevant. We carry phones that buzz with needs and opportunities. Our minds spin with what might go wrong and what we might miss. In sessions I sometimes ask, “What voices are the loudest in your head right now?” Naming those voices reveals the vines that wrap around the life of God within us. Jesus does not condemn ambition, stewardship, or desire. He warns against anything that chokes. A helpful practice is a weekly inventory. List the commitments, screens, and conversations that claim your energy. Then hold them before God and ask which belong and which need pruning. Freedom grows where space is cleared.

The Good Soil: A Posture of Welcome

Good soil is not magical. It is prepared. It is open, deep, and relatively uncluttered. When the seed lands it takes root and multiplies far beyond expectation. Notice that fruitfulness here is extravagant, thirty or sixty or a hundred times the original seed. Jesus wants us to imagine abundance. We sometimes limit our horizons to incremental gains, but the kingdom pulses with generosity. Good soil forms through trust, patience, and surrender. Trust that God is already active, patience with the slow pace of transformation, and surrender of outcomes we cannot control. A simple practice is to finish each day with the words, “Lord, everything that is unfinished is yours.” This releases the illusion that growth depends solely on our effort.

Learning to Listen with the Whole Self

Jesus says, “Consider carefully what you hear.” Listening in the kingdom is holistic. It engages mind, body, emotion, and imagination. Try this lectio divina pattern with Mark four. Read the passage out loud. Pause and notice which image shines. Read again and let that image rest in your body. Is there warmth, tension, or excitement? Speak to God about what you sense. Then wait in silence. You are not solving a puzzle. You are welcoming presence. Often the most meaningful insight arrives hours later while washing dishes or driving to work. The seed is still sprouting unseen.

A Practice for the Week

If you want a tangible reminder place a few seeds in your pocket. Sunflower, mustard, or even pumpkin seeds will do. Each time you feel them pray, “Root your word in me today.” At the end of the week plant them in a small pot. Keep the soil moist and watch what happens over time. The practice is not a gimmick. It is a way to let your hands and eyes participate in prayer. Growth you can see anchors hope for growth you cannot yet see inside your soul.

Encouragement for Fellow Travelers

You may read this and diagnose yourself as hard, shallow, or thorny soil. Remember that the farmer keeps sowing. God is generous with seed. He never says, “Too late.” Instead He keeps casting invitations into every patch of ground. Wherever you find yourself, begin there. Invite the Spirit to touch what is compacted, deepen what is thin, clear what is tangled, and celebrate what is already good. You are not alone in this work. Communities of faith, spiritual friends, and directors walk together, each one tending their own plot while cheering the growth in another.

A Final Word

Wildflowers remind me life can emerge from overlooked places.

The kingdom is like that. Quiet seeds dropped into ordinary soil, coaxed by light and hidden grace, eventually rise and turn their bright faces toward the Father. May you notice the seeds falling in your life today. May you guard them, water them, and let them root deep. And may the harvest to come feed many who are hungry for hope.