1 Peter 1:17-23; Acts 2:14a, 36-41
In the novel, Theo of Golden, Theo is a gracious benefactor who begins buying up pencil-drawn portraits hanging in the local coffee shop of Golden, Georgia. Guided by his own intuition and instincts that these portraits belong first and foremost to the person in the portrait, he begins sending elegant, yet disarming, hand-written letters to each one. In a small town, a name proves to be enough to locate a person, but all he knows about them is what he is able to surmise from the detail in the portrait and his own imagination.
At each bestowal, Theo not only gives the gift of the portrait, he gives the gift of being fully present with the recipient. He curiously asks questions. He painstakingly listens to every spoken word as well as those that go unsaid. One of the most memorable bestowals goes to a woman named Ellen. Ellen is unhoused. She takes her meals, and finds her clothing at the local mission where she is well known by those who serve there. Ellen meets Theo at the fountain in the center of town to receive her portrait. The fountain is where Ellen could be seen in the wee hours of the morning, sorting her belongings beside her beloved bicycle, or just sitting, lost in thought. Her expression often betrays the muddled confusion of her mind, or the layers of pain and hostilities she carries in her body. The next minute, she might be correcting someone’s grammar or recounting details of modern literature. Ellen is much more than she appears. On this occasion, she has put on a clean dress from the clothes closet, fancy shoes, and lipstick. She is in no hurry and has plenty of time to answer Theo’s questions and ask plenty of her own. Theo is “struck by Ellen’s literacy and surmised, correctly,” Allen Levi writes, “that books were her language, her neighborhood, her connection to reality.”[1]
When Theo finally presents Ellen with her portrait, he tells her what he sees in her eyes: wisdom, strength, someone who has been tested, someone very motherly; someone who is misunderstood, but a kind woman with a tender heart. “She could be a saint,” he told her, “It’s in her. I’m sure. This quite possibly could be a portrait of St. Ellen of the Promenade.”
Ellen and Theo forge an important friendship that day that is revisited through the novel. For our purposes today, I’d like for you to imagine what seeds are being planted all over a small town when someone like Theo bestows… more than portraits… to dozens upon dozens of people. Gentleness, kindness, generosity of spirit more than wallet (but both!), connections much deeper than a comment on someone’s post or even a direct message to their inbox. No, this is much more than that. Theo is planting seeds with each person he takes time to meet. I wonder if he set out to plant a garden, or if he just followed his heart?
The Apostle Peter set out to plant a garden. In the book of Acts, he preaches up a storm, driving his message into the hearts of his listeners. They are moved. They are compelled by his invitation to prune their lives from the weeds and replant themselves in relationship with God. They allow themselves to be baptized as a symbol of their trust in this new relationship with God and God’s people. And they add themselves to those following Jesus’ teachings, rooted in the truth of the resurrection. The truth at the bottom of Easter – that God can enter into any situation, no matter how lost, buried, or dead, and bring new life to it. With God, the Apostle Peter, is planting a garden.
In this letter, 1 Peter, the apostle is writing to an audience of mainly new believers, new followers of Christ. And they are living in a challenging environment, much like ourselves I would say, where there are religious and cultural forces actively working against them. The Roman empire’s oppression and corrupt religious elitism have rejected the Messiah and therefore reject them. Remember, most of these are Gentiles, outsiders to Israel anyway. And, in the absence of a faith that hasn’t had time for a deep root system to develop, they are confronted with an extremely socially complicated world. [2]
Having David Gushee here last weekend, revisiting our Baptist roots in some of those conversations, reminded me that while the SBC (as we knew it) was imploding (taken over by fundamentalism) those who started new Baptist seminaries – the professors, the administrators, the students felt MUCH like the audience of Peter’s letter. We were exiles from our traditional Baptist communities. We didn’t belong in the big baptist seminaries anymore. We left to wander in the wilderness of the new Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. This was not quite promised land! It wasn’t yet accredited. They owned two large houses that were converted into classrooms. We met in borrowed classrooms at the Presbyterian School of Christian Education across the street where they let us eat in their cafeteria, and thank God, use their amazing library.
We were taught by exiles. Professors who had left Southern and Southeastern under pressure by their boards of trustees taught Theology, Ethics, Missiology, Biblical studies, and pastoral care from their exiled point of view. I guess it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I am most at home in a place like this. You who celebrated being kicked out of the Baptist Association. You who have been ordaining women for decades. You, who serve your neighbors unflinchingly with fervor and for the sake of the most disenfranchised in this city!
Many times, we are tempted to think that social dislocation (feeling exiled) is a punishment from God, but what if, as Peter writes in verse 18, we are actually “being redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors.”
The empty way of legalist religion, the empty way of homophobia, the empty way of christian nationalism, the empty way of exclusive church. When you feel like ‘poor us, we are so small, such a remnant of who we used to be,’ would you read verse 23, “For you have been born anew, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God. Like seeds planted in the cold, dark ground, this painful period and out-of-place exile, is where “mature faith is incubated” and where a community distinguished by sincere love for each other grows; and where deep, honest faith grows roots.
Please know, believe, you have been redeemed from those empty ways of life and faith. You have been set free by the power of the resurrection. Set free by the God who called Jesus from the grave! That’s the truth at the bottom of Easter, as Chuck Poole writes:
“Nothing done in the name of our Lord will be wasted, lost, or pointless, because God’s goodness and power will ultimately triumph over all that is evil and hurtful and wrong.”[3]
“Inherent in the words of today’s text is a summons to connectedness; a community forged and formed through challenges and trials. The church is being called to what congregations at our best can be. Inter-related. Invested in one another. Sources of support, encouragement, and care for and with the members.”[4] But not only within the walls of the church, right? We are called to be in relationship with people outside these walls as well, especially those who are a community of faith often “othered” in our southern culture.
Today, I have a note to read to you from my friend, the rabbi at Temple B’nai Sholom.
Dear Friends at Weatherly Heights:
When division runs deep [in our land] and differences are too often weaponized, the work of partnership and unity becomes even more sacred. Our relationship reminds us that we need one another and that we do not have to agree on everything to stand for something together. In truth, our differences can strengthen us, even as we remain bound by a shared commitment to human dignity and justice.
As Temple B’nai Sholom enters its 150th year, partnerships like yours are essential… [Stand with us] not only [to protect and] sustain Jewish life but also to help build a community [that values and is ] shaped by compassion, diversity, and love.
We are grateful to walk alongside you in this shared work of bringing greater wholeness to Huntsville and to our world.
In friendship, Rabbi P.J. Schwartz
First Peter is calling us to what congregations at our best can be: empathetic with all people, loving people without strings attached, deeply caring for one another. Planting gardens with seeds of love, compassion, kindness. Those grow fruit that’s good for everyone.
In her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist writes:
In a garden, food arises from partnership. If I don’t pick rocks and pull weeds, I’m not fulfilling my end of the bargain. I can do these things with my handy opposable thumb and capacity to use tools, to shovel manure. But I can no more create a tomato or embroider a trellis in beans than I can turn lead into gold. That’s the plants’ responsibility and their gift: animating the inanimate. Now there is a gift.
I like the way she talks about partnership between humans and the ground and what grows. But we believe there is another Partner in this symbiosis, don’t we? The One who breathes life into tombs is the one who breathes life into seeds, whose breath animates the inanimate.
She says people often ask her what should they do to help restore the relationship between people and the land. She says her answer is always, “plant a garden.” It’s good for the earth and it’s good for the people. “A garden is a nursery for nurturing connection… Something essential happens in a garden. It’s a place where if you can’t say ‘I love you’ out loud, you can say it in seeds. ”[5]
Most things don’t start big, they start with small acts of care.
No seed planted in the name of the Lord will be wasted, lost, or pointless. Seeds planted with care and love are not planted in vain. Let’s keep planting seeds… here…. There… and see what God grows.
[1] Levi, Allen, Theo of Golden, p. 140
[2] Kamudzandu, Israel, Working Preacher commentary, 1 Peter 1:17-23, 2026
[3] Poole, Charles E., The Flute Beneath the Gold, Reading the Bible and Speaking the Truth, Smyth & Helwys, 2002
[4] Cook, Stephen, pastor Second Baptist, Memphis, preaching notes 2025
[5] Kimmerer, Robin Wall, Braiding Sweetgrass, Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, 2013