This past week I spent six of seven days at Claggett at the diocesan youth camp.
There were forty-plus children ranging from second to sixth grade, 18 staff members, and two volunteers - me, and a woman from St. Andrew's in Pasadena who did the music for the week.
I wish I could tell you about the fantastic things that happened at camp - the lives that were saved, the children's lives that were changed, the love that flowed freely….actually some of that happened,
but I confess that by the time I got home Friday evening at 10:30, I felt like I had one nerve left that hadn't been frayed.
The kids were great - a really nice group of kids from all over the diocese - most from what appeared to be happy homes, and some very needy.
The staff was fantastic - and it's a good thing, since the camp director came down with Strep on Wednesday,
and the senior staff was then in charge.
This group of 18-25 year olds are some of the finest young people I have ever known,
and it was wonderful to serve with them.
So what frayed my nerves?
Perhaps spending the afternoons spotting at the pool, feeling like a piece of meat barbecuing in the hot sun,
the multiple times I served at meals,
the last-minute need to learn a new form of powerpoint on a computer format I wasn't familiar with,
the multiple trips to walmart and Sam's Club for things the camp had run out of,
the frenetic pace of continual activity,
the early mornings, the late nights,
and the 13 liturgies I had to plan.
I began the week with the distinct desire to sow seeds.
I ended the week with the grave desire to go home and go to bed.
The reality is, anyone who has ever done ministry in a camp knows that this is pretty normal.
By Friday night the entire staff felt the same way.

A sower went out to sow -
And as he sowed, some fell on rocky soil,
some on the path, some among weeds, some on good soil.
In those days, farmers used the scatter-the-seed and plow afterward method.
Farmers knew that most of the seed would end up someplace that would not bear fruit.
But they sowed anyway, in hope, each year.
It was what they were used to.
If they got a yield of seven or eight times their number of seeds sown, they were happy.
So the numbers that jesus talked about in this parable - 30-60- 100 fold, were astronomical,
and you can be sure that for those who heard the parable it was the amount of yield that stuck in their minds.
They knew about rocky soil, and weeds, and seed gone astray. But yields of 100 fold?
That grabbed their attention.
Parables are puzzles, and not easily interpreted.
In Matthew's gospel, an allegorical interpretation ends this passage, explaining what each soil means -
- the rocky soil is the heart that hears the word and grasps it with joy, but there is no root to faith, and the plant withers.
The seed sown along the path is one which never takes root at all; that sown among the weeds is the word that is received with joy, but then the cares of this life -
- and oh, there are so many, aren't there?
- - choke out the word of God, and the plant dies.
So only the seed that is sown on good, healthy soil, in an open heart, yields the fruit in these abundant numbers.
It's a good interpretation, probably written by the community in which Matthew's gospel was written, as an explanation of Jesus' parable.
And there is truth in it, and therefore this parable is often called the parable of the soils, rather than the parable of the sower.
But when one focuses on where the seed falls, rather than the promise of abundance,
we lose track of God's message: that the Kingdom of God is all about the above -and -beyond of God's grace,
found anywhere and everywhere - in the midst of rocky soil, in the midst of an exhausting week of camp, in our daily walk that doesn't seem fruitful,
and in those times when we wonder if we're making a difference at all.
When our concern is the type of soil, we become inwardly focused :
what soil is found in our hearts?
Are we prepared to hear God's word?
Is there something else we should be doing to bear fruit?
But the fact is, its really not about us.
We have been saved by Grace, Paul said, and not of or for ourselves: it is a gift from God.
and for those of us who are in Christ, there is no condemnation.
So turn that focus to the sower, to the sowing itself, and to the yield that is promised.
A sower went out to sow,
just as we do each time we go about the business of being Christians in this world.
We sow seeds of love to people that may not be our first choice for companions.
We sow seeds of care to those who have great need;
we sow seeds of kindness to those who need a lift;
we sow seeds of healing, of sacrament, of God's word to this broken world.
Whether the seed germinates or not isn't our primary focus.
Our focus is on the abundant grace of God, the promise of God's kingdom coming with great yield,
in spite of what our eyes see, and our ears pick up.
In spite of the times when we are too tired to think;
we sow seed in our very walking this earth with God,
and God is faithful to bring about the harvest in due time.
The abundance of grace hearkens back to Isaiah's picture of Plenty:
All you who are thirsty! Come to the waters - Come buy and eat without money and without price.
All that you need is here because whatever God does he does with abundance,
and all we have to do is follow his lead.
The fact is those of us who worked the camp last week sowed a lot of seeds.
Indeed, we sowed so many, we tired ourselves out.
Those who serve with Paul's Place camp this week will have a similar experience.
Sowing can be tiring, and not always a feel-good experience. Sometimes that's a good reminder that ministry is not about us.
We are the laborers, with all that implies.
But it is the work of God going forth in the world, and in faith, it will yield a harvest of abundance.
We may not see that happen. But we can rejoice in God's promise of a kingdom of Grace.