During the Sunday sermon, a woman in the row ahead of me is scrolling through recipes. She lands on one for chocolate cake and proceeds to study it intently.

Another woman sitting just down from me has started sketching a sidewalk scene with flowers growing in a row on either side of the path.

Several rows ahead, a man is playing with his wife’s hair, his arm around her shoulder. She leans more deeply into the crook of his arm.

And what am I doing? People watching.

All of us, distracted.

I’m also thinking about summer crockpot dinners. A large mosquito bite on my upper arm itches and feels warm. I wonder if it is infected.

Is it supposed to rain this week? I check the weather app.

But I am also listening, and hopefully everyone else is too. 

The sermon topic is the Parable of the Growing Seed, which only appears in Mark 4:26-29:

He also said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head.  As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.”

I appreciate the word “scatter.” It is a playful word, an easy word. It implies the swift motion of tiny things, which I usually find hilarious.

Have you ever spilled an entire tray of kitty litter while trying to empty the pan?

How about loading up your Daisy air rifle with little BBs, only to have the tube slip from your hand?

What about losing control of a full bag of rice as you were measuring out a cup?

Then there are our thoughts, seemingly tiny, fleeting wisps of existence that spill into every corner of our lives, much like a busted bag of rice.

Scattering seed was how farmers sowed fields, one handful at a time. Farmers didn’t understand how the seed grew, but they knew it would happen, regardless of their efforts.

Scattering seed wasn’t some random action, though it seemed to be that way, nor was it an accident. It was intentional, with the end goal of reaping a harvest.

Even scattered, distracted thoughts, random as they seem, can be seeds of God’s kingdom if we place them in His hands.

Or even if we don’t, God will have His way. Your participation in it, however, is much more joyful and satisfying when you give it all to Him, even the distractions. For in the midst of our scattered thoughts live beauty and potential, tiny seeds of the kingdom of Heaven, that God can use to serve any purpose He chooses.

Who knows? That chocolate cake might have been an encouraging treat to share with a neighbor.

The flowers and sidewalk might have been a reflection of the sermon topic itself.

The husband and wife were looking at the preacher the whole time, so they get bonus points. We’ll give them a pass.

I hope they took a Sunday afternoon nap.

You can see where my distracted thoughts have taken me. It feels a little bit like they’ve sprouted and might do some good.

The pastor is closing it down with a build up to the invitation. The congregation is restless. Pens are clipped to notebooks. Bibles are zipped back into beautiful covers. Legs are crossed and uncrossed in anticipation of standing.

Let’s pray.

I listen, and I hear a line spoken in the prayer: “Your Word, the seed, has power.”

Amen, brother.

Especially in the midst of distractions.