The Parable of the Fescue Seed

A 30-ish North Atlanta suburbanite engaged in a biannual tradition required by all home owners with fescue lawns: overseeding. This former 3rd generation Texan didn't understand all things -- or anything thing -- fescue when he moved East of the Mississippi. All he knew was St. Augustine, and I'm not talking about the church father. St. Augustine is the blessed grass warm environs, needing little attention or care beyond mowing, water, and sun. Not so with with wimpy weed known as fescue. The slightest bit of heat, sunlight, or drought sends this grass to its grave.

Now this new Atlantan is a miserly dude. He already laments having to spend his money on other required lawn care necessities (a.k.a. pine straw and ant control). But bang for buck nothing beats a well groomed fescue lawn. Oh man, they can be stunning. So he sojourns off to the store to spend his hard earned dinero. He wants that nice fescue lawn that are the pride and joy of his neighbors, the shopping mall, and that famous golf course in East Lake. He hates the bare spots. He yearns for a smooth field of green. So he plunks down his $25 for a 10 lb. bag. "That ought to be enough," he thought.

It wasn't. Had he read the directions on the back, he would have bought more. Overseeding means you cover the whole yard with new seed -- bare spots and green spots. But he didn't. The size of his yard required more -- much more. Maybe it was an oversight. Maybe he just didn't want to sacrifice more dollars on the yard. But he had his bag, and he wasn't going back to the store. What to do?

Surveying his yard, he saw the obvious: bare, brown patches of dirt, and lush, verdant green globs of grass. Only 10 lbs. of seed that required 30 lbs for a good overseed job. The decision, of course, was clear.

His first course of action was to overseed the barest and ugliest spots. And did he ever! He poured on the seed, extravagantly! With great attention to detail, and by his own hand! The excitement began to invade his heart as he saw dozens of little seeds per square centimeter. He thought to himself, "There will be beautiful green grass here, come hell or high water!" He covered the seed with soil, covered it again with wheat straw just for good measure, and gave the area a dousing of the Chattahoochee's finest water.

Why did he adopt this strategy? Quite obviously, it was the area of greatest need. With a limited amount of seed, the areas of greatest need came first.

When he had covered the barest and brownest spots with seed, he took the little that remained and spread it over the rest of the lawn. Some of these parts were green already, but a little strengthening here and there was necessary as well, as part of a good overall fescue strategy.

As the sower spread his seed, a thought came to mind: it seems that this little lawn project is quite like the task we face with world missions.

We have a limited amount of life giving resources that are given for this most important cause, and we have areas of differing needs. Some areas are devoid of growth, and are in the most desperate need. The 10/40 window portions of the world and parts of the Far East came to his mind. Countries where less than 1% of population professes Christ, and are in dire need of resources.

Others have old, leftover growth, and are hanging in there, but are also in need of a dose of live-giving support. He thought of some of the countries in Europe he had visited, like France, Spain, and even England. Other areas of the world are lush and green, by comparison, and need very little at all. North America came to his mind, with its wealth of churches, access to the Gospel, Christian ministries, and Christian media.

How sad, he thought, that the world couldn't be cared for like his lawn: the greater amount of resources in the areas with the greatest need. In his own convention of churches, for example, less than 16% of every dollar given for "missions" finds its way out of North America. A sad state of affairs, yes. But not an insurmountable situation. He saw the landscape with clarity that he had previously been blind to.

As he leaned on his rake in the warm Atlanta sun that early spring afternoon, he voiced a small prayer. "Lord, may it not be so. Help me to think primarily and feel passionately about the areas of greatest need. Help me and my fellow brothers and sisters on the Way sow generously toward Your work in those places. May when see the need, and may our hearts be broken."

Amen.