Author: Ryan Hoffer

One thing that I can’t help but notice when reading the Parable of the Sower is that the sower sows his seed not only on good soil but also on soil that he knows will produce no fruit. Three of the four examples are unfavorable conditions: the hardened path, the rocks, and the thorns. Why would any farmer in his right mind sow in places he knew there would be no yield? If done intentionally, this would seem like a futile, even ridiculous effort. However, when you begin to unpack the spiritual implications of the act, there is extraordinary theological significance. We see that this act of God is extravagant, graceful, and instructive.

Let us first recall that the sower is the Son of Man. Though this is not stated explicitly, the inference is made by the context as well as Christ’s own words from another parable later on: “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man” (Matthew 13:37). Additionally, we know that the seed is the “word of God” (Luke 8:11). The four types of ground are categories of people distinguished by their response to the Word of God. So then, the Son of Man is spreading the Word of God to all people, without discrimination, even to those who will reject Him. Firstly, in doing so, He is extravagant. 2 Peter 3:9 says, “…He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”

This “everyone” includes all categories of people, coinciding with the different types of terrain from the parable. He sows His seed without reservation to all people. Secondly, He is graceful. He not only doesn’t give us what we deserve, but He instead gives us what we don’t deserve (you may need to read that again)—this is the definition of grace. Romans 5:8: “God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” The rocky terrain does not deserve the seed. Indeed, it will bear no fruit, and this He knows. And yet, the Sower freely gives it. Lastly, we see this act of the sower as instructive for us. We are to tell the world at large about Jesus, irrespective of persons. In Luke 24:47, Jesus tells the disciples, “repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.” We are to share the good news of Jesus Christ with all of those around us—to the responsive heart as well as the hardened, shallow, and crowded hearts.

A final thought: this parable was never about the soil. It is not called the “parable of the four soils”—as appropriate as that would be. Instead, Jesus calls it “the parable of the sower.” Yes, it teaches us about responsive and unresponsive hearts, but it also tells us just as much about the nature of the Sower. Take a moment to consider what this parable teaches you about Jesus.

God bless you today.

In 251 A.D., the first systematic persecution of Christianity took place in the Roman Empire. The emperor Decius issued an imperial edict requiring all subjects to perform a sacrifice to the Roman gods (including Decius himself) in the presence of a government official. After the rite had taken place, the individual would then receive a “libellus”—a certificate signed by the magistrate that the sacrifice had taken place (a number of these documents have survived the ages and are on display in museums around the world; see https://tinyurl.com/5n95vnes for several from the University of Michigan). Those who did not receive a libellus were stripped of their possessions and arrested and, in some cases, killed—their stories of martyrdom recorded by the Christians of the early church. An overwhelming number of Christians quickly fell away from the church. They either succumbed to idol worship and completed the sacrifice or bribed officials into purchasing a certificate saying they had. Fortunately, the persecution was short-lived. The following year, Decius died in battle, and his edict came to an end, though it would not be the last systematic persecution of the church.

Immediately after the Decian persecution, those who had recanted their faith sought readmission into the church. They were labeled “lapsed” Christians, and their readmission to the church became the subject of a great controversy. One church leader named Novatian asserted that they could be forgiven, but under no circumstances could lapsed Christians be readmitted. On the other hand, Cyprian, the famous bishop of Carthage, argued that while the sin was indeed egregious, there must be a process by which repentant lapsed Christians could be restored to communion in the Church. In 251 A.D., he wrote a famous book on the subject called On the Lapsed. Cyprian’s theology was very influential on the development of later church practice in Western civilization.

The falling away of a great number of Christians during a time of testing brings to mind the condition of the second and third soils in the Parable of the Sower in Luke 8:14-15:

Those on the rocky ground are the ones who receive the word with joy when they hear it, but they have no root. They believe for a while, but in the time of testing they fall away. The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature (NIV).

For the great many caught unprepared during the Decian persecution, it was revealed that their hearts were indeed rocky soil. This predicament may seem foreign to us because we live in a time and place of religious freedom, but it is nevertheless real. Let us thank God for the times of peace we experience as Christians, but let us also live prepared, knowing that times of testing are a revelation of the soil of the human heart. Let it be said of us that we held fast with an “honest and good heart [bearing] fruit with patience” (Lk. 8:15) when tribulations arise.

Last year, we had the water line running to our house break and flood the front yard (hours before we were about to leave for vacation, I might add). It was quite a spectacle. After everything was said and done and the plumbing was repaired, there was a gigantic section on our front lawn where the grass had been destroyed. Like any responsible person in the throes of homeownership, I found myself out in the yard tilling and reseeding the lawn. Using my handheld spreader, I sowed seed generously in the affected area. Some landed in the correct spot, some flung far away, and some even landed on the driveway. As the days went by, new grass began to spring up, but not everywhere. I realized some areas hadn’t been tilled properly, and the seed simply sat atop the ground, never finding purchase in the soil.

Likewise, I used the blower to clear the driveway of the seed that had fallen by the wayside. Do you think that the Parable of the Sower (Luke 8:4-15) crossed my mind through all of this? You betcha! It was all I could think about. The Lord was giving me an object lesson to teach me something I already knew but needed to remember by way of experience.

What a great and merciful God, He that condescends to draw the eternal from the humbler and plainer figures of everyday life and observation—fields and forests, ploughmen and fishermen, beauty and creation. In wisdom, He gives parables that can at once instruct an ancient audience and yet find familiarity among modern readers so displaced in time. An old theologian, describing the accessibility of Christ’s teaching, says, “The homeliness of the illustrations, whilst it links the teaching with the daily life of His time, yet sufficiently frees them from local peculiarity to render them of universal application.” It is no surprise, therefore, that after He finished these parables, the multitude murmured, “From whence has this man these things? And what wisdom is this which is given unto him?” (Mark 6:2). Yet, in spite of their astonishment, many took offense at Him and unwittingly demonstrated that their hearts were the footpath robbed of the seeds by the birds.

Take inventory this morning. Is the Holy Spirit using the ordinary around you to illustrate some spiritual truth that you may be missing out on? Ask Him to give you awareness. Pray for ears to hear and eyes to see that you may have an “honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience” (Luke 8:15).

In 1991, Michael W. Smith’s album, Go West Young Man, proved to be a hugely successful effort for the artist. It catapulted the singer into fame as the single “Place in This World” topped the U.S. Billboard charts and became a mainstream crossover sensation on secular radio. In the Christian music scene, the album took home a Dove Award for Contemporary/Pop Album of the Year. Just to highlight the far-reaching success of the album, I was not a believer at the time, and yet I recall hearing “Place in This World” and being fascinated by the chorus. Almost a decade later, when I became a Christian, I went back and listened to the album with new ears, and it has since had a special place in my heart.

One of my favorite songs off of the record, however, has to be “Seed to Sow.” Of course, with this Sunday’s message being on the parable of the sower from Luke 8, it was inevitable that I went back and listened to the song. So, I’m going to ask a lot of you here: whether you love or hate the late-eighties/early-nineties synth-pop aesthetic (which presents itself in its full glory on the album cover), give the song a listen and follow along.

Smith begins by describing the diverse types of sowing according to different people:
Some people quietly reveal in the manner of the meek
Some people shout the way they feel to a radical degree
Some people sing it to express while others hear another call
Some people speak with subtleness, some don’t rely on words at all

Finally, he returns to his ultimate conclusion: “One thing I know, everybody’s got a seed to sow.” Firstly, Smith is making a good observation. We, too, are sowers. Yes, God is the ultimate sower, and this point is usually made when interpreting Jesus’ parable in Luke 8. However, as disciples and laborers for the kingdom, we also sow seeds of the gospel in the hearts of others. Writing to the church in Corinth, Paul considers himself a sower of the word of God: “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase” (1 Cor. 3:6). We are obligated to share the love of Christ generously, that others may see for themselves and believe. In this manner, we sow.

Toward the end of the song, Smith makes an appeal to anyone who would doubt their usefulness as a sower: “God can use what you can give within the mystery of His ways. Don’t underestimate.” Our Lord took the five loaves and two fish of an unnamed lad and fed the multitude. When we doubt our usefulness, we echo the words of Andrew, who said, “How far will they go among so many?” (John 6:9; NIV). To quote Paul again, “…God [gives] the increase.”

Be sure of one thing today: if you have the love of Christ within, you have seed to sow. Now go forth and sow it! I pray that this song, cheesy as it is, is an encouragement to you today.

In 1526, an English priest by the name of William Tyndale published his English translation of the Bible, an act that was condemned by the institutional religion of his time. As a result, he was charged as a heretic, hunted, and burned at the stake in October of 1536. But the work had already begun; his Bibles had been smuggled into England inside bales of cloth and were being distributed throughout the country. By the time of his death, more than 50,000 copies of his New Testament had been sold in England. His dying words were said to have been, “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes!”—a prayer that was soon to be answered by God Almighty. Less than five years later, King Henry VIII broke ties with Rome and ordered English translations to be placed in churches throughout the country.

Not only did Tyndale’s translation make an enormous contribution to the emerging Protestant cause, but it also left a lasting legacy on the English language. Many idiomatic expressions have their origin in Tyndale’s translation, such as “salt of the earth,” “writing on the wall,” “a stone’s throw,” and “fight the good fight.” One phrase that is particular to this week’s devotion is “fell by the wayside” (Luke 8:5).

Tyndale’s translation of Luke 8:5 reads, “A sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed some fell by the wayside and it was trodden under feet and the fowls of the air devoured it up.” Compare this to the NLT translation, which reads, “…some seed fell on a footpath, where it was stepped on, and the birds ate it.” Notice how our understanding of the idiomatic expression lends new perspective to the text. When one “falls by the wayside,” they are said to fail to accomplish something or to give up. For example, “As life got busier, his fitness routine fell by the wayside,” or “When the going got tough, we fell by the wayside for lack of preparation.” Likewise, the seed that falls by the wayside doesn’t amount to anything—to employ the vernacular.

Next time you hear the expression “fall by the wayside,” remember two things: 1) the parable of the sower and the unfruitful conditions of this first type of terrain and 2) the enormous impact the Word of God has had on our language, mostly without our even being aware of it! Wouldn’t it be cool if even etymology could become an avenue for us to share the gospel with others who use these phrases unwittingly?

I pray you’ve hung in there through a week’s worth of historical anecdotes about small groups. Learning the stories and biographies of Christians who faithfully lived out their faith in generations past ought to inspire us in our own walk with the Lord—I know it has inspired me. Now, let me tell you why small groups matter so much to me.

In 2016, my wife and I were in a difficult season of life. I had just gotten sober after a decade-long battle with alcoholism. We were enduring financial and legal hardships as a result of my addiction, and we had three children, including a newborn. Yet, in the middle of it all, the Lord was stirring in our hearts.

We began looking for a church, and NorthStar is where we landed. We desperately desired biblical community for several reasons: (1) we wanted to grow in our faith within the local body of Christ; (2) we needed support as we navigated the trials we were facing; and (3) we wanted our children to grow up surrounded by godly friendships.

I remember praying during those early days, asking God to give us Christian friends. Before long, we found ourselves in a married couples’ small group, and I was pouring out my heart to strangers in living rooms as we worked our way through books of the Bible. Before we knew it, we were having guys’ and girls’ nights, our kids were enjoying playdates together, and we were discovering that everyone else’s life was messy too.

Even more importantly, prayers were being answered. We were growing closer to God. Fruit was being produced in our lives. And somehow, by God’s grace, I was still sober.

Eventually, we began leading small groups ourselves.

One day, I came home to find that my wife had bought a framed picture that still hangs in our bedroom today. It simply says, “I still remember when I prayed for the things I have now.” Even as I write these words and remember that season, I am overcome with emotion—or perhaps a better word is gratitude.

I cannot say enough about the importance of being plugged into a small group or about the work God is able to do in the hearts of people who gather together out of devotion to Jesus Christ. Whether viewed through the lens of church history or personal experience, I hope this week has demonstrated that truth.

My prayer is that, wherever you are reading this today, you will have the opportunity to encourage someone in the Lord—and to be encouraged by someone in the Lord. We were never meant to follow Jesus alone.

God bless.

Yesterday we talked about John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, and the small-group structure of bands and classes that he established. Today, we’ll turn our attention to his mother, Susanna Wesley—one of the most remarkable women in church history—and the small group she hosted in her kitchen.

Susanna was truly a hero of the faith. She was born in 1669 as the youngest of 25 children to Samuel Annesley, a minister in the Presbyterian Church, and his wife, Mary White. By the time she was a teenager, she had learned Latin, Greek, French, Hebrew, and English and was able to read and interpret the Scriptures in their original languages.

She married Samuel Wesley, a clergyman in the Church of England, and devoted herself wholeheartedly to the Christian education of their household, including their sons John and Charles, who would later become the founders of Methodism. Each child received a thorough (one might even say methodical) classical and theological education from their mother. So profound was her influence that John Wesley once remarked, “I learned more about Christianity from my mother than from all the theologians of England.”

Indeed, Susanna composed instructional commentaries on the Apostles’ Creed, the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, and other foundational Christian teachings for use in family worship. Her extensive correspondence with her adult children—much of which still survives—reveals that she continued to disciple them through thoughtful theological instruction woven into ordinary family conversation.

In 1710–1711, while her husband Samuel was away for several months on church business, Susanna experienced a renewed sense of calling after reading a book about Danish missionaries serving in India. She wrote in her journal:

“If my heart were sincerely devoted to God… I might do somewhat more than I do. I thought I might live in a more exemplary manner in some things; I might pray more for the people, and speak with more warmth to those with whom I have an opportunity of conversing.”

As a result, she began hosting Sunday evening gatherings in her kitchen to read prayers and sermons with her children. What began as a simple family devotional soon attracted neighbors and parishioners, and before long, the little gathering had grown to nearly 300 people. In fact, more people attended Susanna’s kitchen meetings than the regular Sunday morning service.

She wrote in her journal:

“Our company has increased every night, for I dare deny none that asks admittance. Last Sunday I believe we had above two hundred, and many went away for want of room.”

Naturally, these meetings were viewed with suspicion by leaders within the Church of England, who disapproved of such nontraditional gatherings. A formal complaint was eventually sent to her husband, ordering that the meetings be stopped. Susanna’s response has become one of the most courageous statements of Christian conviction in church history:

“If you do, after all, think fit to dissolve this assembly, do not tell me that you desire me to do it, for that will not satisfy my conscience; but send me your positive command, in such full and express terms as may absolve me from all guilt and punishment for neglecting this opportunity of doing good, when you and I shall appear before the great and awful tribunal of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

No further attempts were made to stop the gatherings, and they continued until her husband returned home.

The impact of those kitchen meetings on young John and Charles Wesley is difficult to overstate. Long before Methodism became a movement known for its bands and classes, they witnessed firsthand the power of ordinary believers gathering around God’s Word in the context of authentic Christian community. Their mother’s quiet faithfulness helped shape a legacy of small groups led by men and women who longed to see lives transformed through Christ-centered community.

Hopefully, by now, we are beginning to see how small groups emerged out of a desire for personal piety in the Protestant states following the Reformation. Of course, this idea was not new; it was simply a return to the biblical model practiced by the early church, for that was the very spirit of the Reformation. Another key figure to whom we owe much of the modern concept of small groups is John Wesley, the founder of Methodism.

Wesley was deeply influenced by the Pietist movement and had direct contact with several of its leading personalities (including Spener’s godson—see yesterday’s devotional on Spener). In fact, many historians would even classify Wesley himself as a Pietist, though that reality is often overshadowed by Methodism’s lasting contribution to the religious landscape of the American frontier.

John Wesley remained an Anglican minister throughout his life, but his interactions with the Pietists inspired him to organize small religious societies called “bands” and “classes” that met weekly to cultivate practical Christian growth. Each band consisted of five or six people, most of whom were members of the Church of England. They did not intend to start a new denomination. Rather, they sought to put “methods” (hence the name Methodists) into practice as a way of strengthening everyday Christian living.

In December 1738, John Wesley drafted a set of rules by which these small groups would operate:

“The design of our meeting is to obey that command of God, ‘Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed…’

To this end, we intend:

1. To meet at least once a week.
2. To come punctually at the appointed hour, unless prevented by some extraordinary reason.
3. To begin, with those who are present, exactly at the appointed time with singing or prayer.
4. To speak, each of us in turn, freely and plainly, of the true state of our souls, including the faults we have committed in thought, word, or deed, and the temptations we have experienced since our last meeting.
5. To end every meeting with prayer suited to the condition of each person present.
6. To have one person first describe the state of his own soul and then ask the others, in turn, as many searching questions as necessary concerning their spiritual condition, sins, and temptations.”

In these rules, we can clearly see the prototype for many practices that are common today, such as accountability partners, confession, and the intentional questions often asked during small-group discussions. Their influence is still evident in our own evangelical churches, even if the specific practices have evolved over time.

It is also worth noting that Wesley grounded the Methodist bands in James 5:16: “Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.” At the heart of the Pietist movement was the conviction that Scripture must be put into practice—that we would “be doers of the word, and not hearers only” (James 1:22).

In yesterday’s devotional on the origins of the Pietist movement, we mentioned one of its leading figures—Philipp Jakob Spener. Spener is important for at least two reasons: (1) he is credited as the father of the modern small-group movement, and (2) his 1675 book, Pia Desideria (“Pious Desires”), is regarded as the defining text of the movement.

Spener was a pastor who oversaw the ministerium in Frankfurt during the latter half of the 1600s. Upon his arrival in the prominent German city, he was shocked by the spiritual condition of its churches and longed to see genuine, heartfelt reform. As a result, he began organizing small groups (called collegia pietatis, or “gatherings of piety”), where committed laypeople met with clergy twice a week to discuss the sermon, study the Scriptures, and pray together. In his own words, he wrote, “It would perhaps not be inexpedient (and I set this down for further and more mature reflection) to reintroduce the ancient and apostolic kind of church meetings.”

It is important for the modern reader to understand that, at the time, such gatherings were considered a controversial innovation. For example, during Queen Elizabeth I’s reign in sixteenth-century England, the Anglican Church outlawed and persecuted religious gatherings (called conventicles) that took place outside the Established Church. Even in Spener’s own city of Frankfurt, the collegia pietatis were viewed with suspicion and criticized by the institutional church. Nevertheless, these groups gave rise to a movement of “heart Christianity.” Their followers came to be known as Pietists because of their devotion to Christ and their pursuit of personal holiness. Their legacy is still evident today whenever believers gather in homes during the week for small groups or Bible studies.

Spener’s other major contribution to Christian history was the publication of Pia Desideria in 1675. In it, he challenged the dead orthodoxy of his day by proposing six principles for church renewal:

1. A more extensive use of the Word of God—not only in the gathered church but also in small groups throughout the week.
2. The priesthood of all believers—ministry should not be reserved exclusively for ordained clergy but shared by all God’s people.
3. An emphasis on practice over mere knowledge—Christian truth should be lived, not simply learned.
4. Truth is not established through theological disputes but through repentance and holy living.
5. Clergy should actually be Christians. (There’s a novel idea!)
6. Sermons should edify the church rather than showcase the pastor’s learning.

In many ways, Spener’s message can be summarized in a single phrase: wholehearted devotion to God. As believers embraced these principles, the Holy Spirit began transforming the hearts of men and women, and what many historians have called a “Second Reformation” began to unfold. Practices that were once viewed as unconventional—such as small groups meeting in homes—eventually became a normal and vital part of the Christian life for countless believers around the world.

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there arose a movement in Western Europe known as Pietism. It was a renewal movement led by Lutheran clergy that aimed to further the progress of the Protestant Reformation. Whereas the Reformation had called for a return to sola scriptura (Scripture alone) and the abandonment of empty sacramentalism, the Pietist movement stressed the importance of the believer’s devotional life—a personal experience of God in daily living.

The founders of Pietism emphasized the importance of a conversion experience (being “born again”), reading the Scriptures for oneself, studying the Bible with other believers, accountability, and practical Christianity. The fact that these ideas seem so commonplace to us today is evidence of the profound influence the Pietist movement has had on modern Christianity. However, this was not the case for much of Christendom in the 1600s, after the original impulses of the Reformation had begun to dissipate.

In the generation following Martin Luther, Europe was embroiled in war and religious strife. Ironically, this conflict led to sweeping institutional changes that enforced religious uniformity through civic authority. The Pietist movement argued that affiliation with a state-sponsored orthodoxy is not the essence of true religion. As one historian put it, “Pietism reiterated the motif that the Reformation of doctrine, which had been initiated by Luther, must be consummated by a new Reformation of life.”

This week in Digging Deeper, we will examine the Pietist movement and, in particular, one of its defining characteristics: small groups. Today, we largely take small groups for granted, but before the Pietist movement of the seventeenth century, private house meetings were often regarded as schismatic—and, in some cases, even illegal—and were viewed as an affront to the established church in places like England and Scotland.

We will also discuss some of the key figures of the Pietist movement, such as Philipp Jakob Spener, who is recognized by church historians as the father of the modern small-group movement. My prayer is that, as we dig into this fascinating chapter of church history, we will gain a richer understanding of (1) the origins and value of these practices, (2) the guiding work of the Holy Spirit throughout church history, and (3) the central focus of it all—our Lord Jesus Christ.

So, lock in, because this week’s Digging Deeper will be a week-long study of small groups and the faithful men and women who sought to experience God more deeply through devoted Christian community.