John 12:20-33

I can still remember a sermon I heard when I was a little boy, based on John 12:24.  The preacher, leaning forward in the pulpit and speaking with as much emphasis as he could muster, stressed, “Unless a grain falls into the ground and dies, it abideth alone. But if it dies, it brings forth much fruit.”  And then, holding up his hand, he said, “I hold a grain of wheat. It is small and hard and narrow and self-contained.  And yet at its heart, there sleeps the mystery of life. And that,” he concluded, “is a parable.”

I have never forgotten this. “Unless a grain falls into the earth and dies.”  It’s an interesting thought, after all.  We die before we can live. There is death so that growth may occur. We die to ourselves, with all our habits and faults.

“Unless a grain falls to the earth.”  Not elevated in secure places, but down on the earth where we might get trampled. Not safely stored on tidy shelves but placed instead in the mire and muck of the world, right amid all the sin and heartache and trouble that this world brings.  “Unless a grain falls.”  Broken. Contrite. Penitent. Humbled.

In the verses from John 12 we find a group of Greeks who came to Philip, one of Jesus’ disciples, asking if they could see the Lord. So Philip does what so many churches in America do today whenever someone comes to them with a need… he forms a committee.  Instead of simply going to Christ, Philip goes to Andrew instead. “What should we do?” he might have asked. “You know, Jesus’ schedule is already packed for the day, we can’t fit them in.”  “Well, let’s both go to the Master,” Andrew might have replied. “If both of us go it won’t seem so unimportant to Him.”  And of course they both do approach the Lord.  And of course it was important to Him, because everyone is, whether they fit into a schedule or not.  Jesus is glad to meet with the Greeks, and He tells them something very exciting, the time has come for Him to be glorified!  They are going to be witnesses to it!

But it is here that His tone changes. “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.”  Jesus tells them, “If you want to serve me, if you want to be with me, then you need to become like this grain. You need to be willing to die, to be more than just an intact seed. Only then can you bear much fruit. Only then will you keep your life for eternity.”

I doubt that this is what the Greeks wanted to hear. But it’s part and parcel of discipleship.  Jesus asks us to be humbled, to be forsaken by misunderstanding family members and friends, to be dead to our sinful desires and alive to Him. He calls us to cast off the sins we have that so easily entangle, to get rid of the habits we’ve developed that keep us from serving Him wholeheartedly, that stifle our ministry, that make hypocrisy of our witness.  “Unless a grain falls,” He says.  Paul expands on this in Philippians 4:8 when he counsels that “if anything is excellent and if anything is admirable, focus your thoughts on these things: all that is true, all that is holy, all that is pure, all that is lovely, and all that is worthy of praise.”  Everything else, he’d say, we need to let go of.  “Unless a grain falls.”

Jesus had to suffer, just like we do. “Now I am deeply troubled,” He cried. But He knew the reason He had come to earth. “Father, glorify your name. When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to me.”  This is our grace. This is our life. We die to ourselves, accepting Jesus’ death and life for us, so that we might live for Him.