THE STING OF THE THORN

 

The Sting of the Thorn, Part One by Charles R. Swindoll Mark 4:1-20 Give the Reverend Dullard Drydust enough time and he will manage to confuse most sections of the Bible. Because we preachers are notorious for getting hung up on Greek tenses and purpose clauses and theological trivia, we often shy away from those passages that appear nontechnical and plain. Like the parables, to be specific. Like Mark 4, to be exact. Not only is that particular parable simple and straightforward, it's even interpreted for us by Jesus, the One who thought up the story in the first place. And since it has to do with a farmer-type who pitches some seed on different kinds of soil, it doesn't seem to have the sophisticated ingredients needed for homiletical hash. After all, there's not a lot you can say about the story of a farmer who drops little seeds here and there in haphazard fashion---or is there? At first glance, maybe not, but after some thought, I'm convinced there's more here than any of us ever dreamed. And since the Son of God explains its essential meaning, the story cannot be twisted or forced to fit the fancy of some hungry-eyed pulpiteer looking for three points and a poem. This is a profound story about life---real life---your life and mine. It boils life down to the four basic responses people have toward spiritual things. The "seed," according to the speaker, is "the word." I believe we're safe in saying that "the word" refers to truth. God's truth. Truth for living. Life-giving words provided for us by the Lord our God. The Scriptures, yes, but also the insights, the perspective, and the wisdom that grow in us when the seed takes root. The four different "soils" represent people of all ages and interests and backgrounds who respond to the things of the Lord in various ways. Some listen, then immediately reject---instantly they turn it off. Others hear and seem to enjoy it and even respond well on the surface, but soon spin off when their bubble bursts and the going gets rough. Still others grab hold and initially embrace what they hear, but by and by they get sidetracked as their growth is throttled by life's "thorns." Then, as always, there are those who hear, believe, grow, hang in there, and before long begin to reproduce as healthy plants in God's vineyard. It's obvious that the first two groups are those who are not born again. They are rootless, lifeless, and fruitless. It's obvious that the last group is born-again: submissive, active, and productive. But frankly, I'm bothered by the third group. They are Christians, because they grow and get right on the verge of bearing fruit, but their growth becomes retarded. These people hear everything the fourth group hears. But those insights and needed truths are never really accepted, never allowed to take root and grow. Why? Because thorns have come in—thorns which suffocate the normal healthy growth of each plant. Thorns like these trip us up and cause untold misery. They are killers! Tomorrow we'll talk more about the threat each type of thorn represents and about Jesus's solution.  Excerpted from Come Before Winter and Share My Hope, Copyright © 1985, 1994 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission.     The Sting of the Thorn, Part Two by Charles R. Swindoll 1 John 2:15-17; Mark 4:19 We've been talking about Jesus's parable in Mark 4:1-20 about the farmer who sows seeds in four different types of soil. As I mentioned in Part One, I'm bothered by the third group because thorns come in and destroy the healthy growth of the Christian. It is interesting that the thorns were already present at the time the seed entered, and that the thorns were never completely out of the picture even though the seeds began to take root (Mark 4:7). And what do the thorns represent? Again, we have Jesus's own words to answer that question. They represent "the worries of the world," "the deceitfulness of riches," and "the desires for other things" (4:19). When these thorns enter, spiritual growth and production slip out the rear exit. Our Lord doesn't say they might cause trouble, nor does He suggest they have been known to hinder us. He says that they . . . enter in and choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful (v. 19). Period. No ifs, ands, or maybes. The thorns are dictators. They know nothing of peaceful coexistence with the life of freedom and victory. Shunning a brash frontal attack, these enemies of our soul employ a more subtle strategy. Slipping under the back door, their long tentacles advance so slowly, so silently, the victim hardly realizes he or she's being strangled. Demanding first place, they ultimately siphon off every ounce of spiritual interest and emotional energy. Are you a compulsive worrier? The term worry is derived from the old German word wurgen, which means "to choke." Somehow, by extension, the word came to denote "mental strangulation," and finally to describe the condition of being harrassed with anxiety. All of that and more are in Jesus's mind as He presents this parable. It's the thorns that bug us. Always growing, forever aggressive and ready to "choke the word" right out of our minds. Like worry—a thin stream of fear trickles through our minds. If entertained, it cuts a deeper channel into which other thoughts are drained—often good thoughts, God-given thoughts gleaned directly from His Book. The same is true of "the deceitfulness of riches." What a consuming passion . . . yet how empty, how unsatisfying! We rationalize, of course, by saying it doesn't mean that much to us. Like the late heavyweight champ, Joe Louis, who smiled and said, "I don't like money actually, but it quiets my nerves." Yeah, sure, Joe. But this third species of thorns is the killer—"the desires for other things." Better think that one through. It's the picture of discontent, the plague of pursuit: pushing, straining, stretching, relentlessly reaching while our minds become strangled with the lie, "enough just isn't enough." Do you find it next to impossible to be satisfied with your present situation? If so, these words are nothing new to you—you've been stuck by those thorns since your soil first received God's seed . . . and if the truth were known, you inwardly enjoy their presence. After all, it's risky to abandon your entire life to God by faith. You'd rather worry, possess, and complain, than rest, release, and rejoice. Thorns inject a powerful anesthesia. Why do so many Christians live among thorns like these? Because we have a quiet, respectable, secret love for them. I know. I've got the ugly scars to prove it. Each one is a mute reminder of years trapped in the thicket. And periodically I still have to yank a few. I've never heard of such, but I'd like to proclaim today as Thorn Pulling Day. We may bleed and it may hurt . . . but, oh, the beauty of a thornless day!   Excerpted from Come Before Winter and Share My Hope, Copyright © 1985, 1994 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission.