[Sermon] God’s Garden: Rooted in Worth

Pastor Hector Garfias-Toledo + March 23, 2025

Third Sunday of Lent

"Full to the Brim: You Are Worthy"

To often, we live as if we must prove our worth—at work, in relationships, in society. But Jesus tells a different story. In today’s Gospel, the fig tree isn't fruitful, yet instead of being discarded, it is nurtured. God is not keeping score or giving us "second chances"—God is always pouring grace into our roots, inviting us to grow. Our worth isn’t based on productivity, perfection, or approval. It is given freely by the One who sees us, knows us, and loves us—just as we are.

Sermon Transcript

From YouTube's automatically generated captions, lightly edited by ChatGPT for punctuation and readability.

Grace to you and peace from Abba, Father, Mother, Creator, and the Lord Jesus Christ—our Savior, our Lord, the gardener that fertilizes our roots, our sibling, our friend. And we said, "Amen."

Amen.

Life stinks. How many of you feel like that at some point? How many of you are feeling that way right now? Does your life stink now? There's one hand there—thank you for being honest.

Is that good—that our life stinks sometimes?

Well, yesterday we were at the gardens, and, uh, it was interesting that I had to be shoveling soil and planting, making sure, and wishing that the seeds I planted would eventually germinate and bring some vegetables. I was with my hands all soiled. So when I give you communion today and you see my nails all black, it's because of the manure that we were using yesterday.

Be glad that I'm not distributing communion. Well, some—some will probably get... life stinks.

Is it true? It's true. Sometimes it stinks. But I think it's a good thing, and I invite you to spend just a few minutes with me figuring out how the stink of our lives sometimes makes us strong and fruitful.

Last week, we had the message from our dear sibling and brother Jeff, who helped us connect the dots of all the stories in Scripture that remind us of God's promise—how God's promise runs through the entire witness of Scripture, from the New Testament to the Old Testament. In that story, we can hear of God's constant and persistent seeking of us, gathering us under God's wings—wings, wings of divine compassion—to protect us, to give us life, and to give us the opportunity to continue to be witnesses to that divine compassion.

So today, the question is—as David was inviting us to say, "I am worthy," or "We are worthy"—to really ask the question: Who is worthy of receiving such blessings that Jeff was reminding us of last Sunday? Who is worthy of such blessings? Are you? Are we? Are the people we don't like and don't agree with?

What makes us worthy, after all? And what does "worthy" mean in today's context?

If you look at the story that was read in the Gospel today, who do you identify with? There are three main characters: one is the owner of the land, the second is the person who takes care of the land, and the third is the tree.

So let's do this by hand—and this is a real question, so you need to raise your hand. Who among you identifies with the owner, the landlord? Raise your hand. Can you identify with them? There's a few hands.

How many of you identify with the person who is taking care of the trees and the land? There?

How many of you identify with the tree?

It's interesting, right? To see how these stories—these parables—speak to us where we are in our journey. Parables are stories of real situations in life that convey a spiritual message. And it's interesting to see how these passages—these parables—really speak to us in different ways.

Here’s your transcript with proper punctuation while preserving the original grammar:

So let's begin with a verse in Isaiah, chapter 55. It was read by Heidi today. God says, "I am making a lasting covenant commitment with you—the same that I made with David: sure, solid, enduring love for you."

As I was thinking about worthiness, being worthy, and these passages, a slogan came to mind. You probably remember it. Do you remember L'Oréal’s slogan from 1971?

I wasn’t born at that time, by the way. I was told—okay, I was told that this happened.

Can we see the slide? Are we able to see the—the—the slide that I have? You will remember this slogan.

In the 1970s—we were having some challenges with MediaShout, so let’s see if it's possible. If not, I will tell you: "Expensive, but you’re worth it."

Yeah—"Because you’re worth it." It’s expensive, but you are worthy.

The context of that slogan was a message that was bold and unifying. It encouraged women to recognize their own worth. It’s interesting because we were just celebrating Women’s Rights Month. At that time, advertising was objectifying women, and women were fighting for their rights. And this movement started gaining momentum.

It was important for women at that time, as it is important for many people today. Because you know that when we live a life where we are constantly proving that we are worthy, we live a life that is exhausting—that is life-sucking, that is dehumanizing.

Every morning, when you get up, you have to think: How am I going to prove that I am worthy? And it’s tiring—I tell you.

This may be from the perspective of the immigrant community, foreign-born people, young people, mothers, parents, single people, aging people, or people who have a different preference in terms of gender.

It is so life-sucking. It is really a life that stinks—when every morning, we need to get up and think: How am I going to prove that I’m worthy? That I have dignity? That I am someone?

The recent events happening in the life of the congregation—when my own parents, members of Trinity Lutheran Church & Schools, and friends of members of Trinity Lutheran Church & Schools are facing situations where their health is declining, where their physical capacities are declining—it pushes us, sometimes, to make them objects of just care, and we forget that they are worthy. They are life.

It reminds me, therefore, that we need to be intentional about seeing a person’s worth.

That I take the moment. That they take the time.

Personally, as you know, a week ago, I went to visit my parents in Mexico, and I faced the reality of my father struggling with his health—the sudden loss of short-term memory. I had to deconstruct my own frameworks, assumptions, and practices to be able to see that he is worthy, even in the midst of the challenges he’s facing right now.

It is pushing me to see life from a different perspective, from a different angle—to remember and to remind myself that even in the midst of where he is, as well as where many people in this congregation and the communities where we live are, we are worthy.

Because each person has received God-given dignity.

Worth is not earned—it is an inherent part of who we are as children of God.

Many years ago, when I had just joined Trinity Lutheran Church and Schools and was going through the process of identifying the values of the congregation, there was a consultant working with us. Brian Zer was his name—a good friend of mine, a coach, a consultant, and a friend—who was here helping us define the values of the congregation.

He always reminded me in our conversations, "Hector, in leadership and discipleship development, we must remind ourselves that people are brilliant. Always start there. People are brilliant."

And this is not because of their knowledge, the badges they wear, their accomplishments, their titles, or their years of being in church—whether Lutheran or any other denomination. It is because of who they are and whose they are. When you start there, you start seeing the church in a different way, with different eyes. You start seeing people for who they are—as children of God.

So today, in our Gospel reading, we have this story again: the landlord goes through and finds a fig tree. He is unhappy because three years have passed, and nothing has happened with this tree.

Unfortunately, this passage has often been interpreted as, "God is a God of second chances." But to be honest, I have a different perspective. I don’t agree with the idea that God is giving us a second chance.

Because who in the world, in a right relationship, lives by chances? Do we do that with a child, a spouse, a partner, or a friend? Do we say every morning, "We are going to start a new day, and I’m going to give you a second chance to prove you are really my loved one?"

If we lived like that, can you imagine the kind of life we would have? Living in constant testing? That is not the life that God wants for us.

What I understand from this passage is that we have a God whose identity is love—whose desire is for us to flourish and to be fruitful.

Manuring—bringing manure to the roots of the tree—is interesting. It’s not a concept commonly found in the Old Testament. In fact, this is one of the few places where this image is used in Scripture.

This passage is telling us about the difference between God and our human logic. God’s thoughts and ways are above our thoughts and ways. God's mercy goes so far that even when a tree is dying, the Lord will invest in it—the time, the energy, and yes, even the manure—so that it may be fruitful and live a life that is worthy.

What would happen if God said, "Yeah, that tree is not worthy. It’s not producing fruit. Let’s move on—just cut it down. Make it firewood."

I think this passage tells us that God is saying, "No—that’s not who I am."

God is inviting us to think: If I were not to put manure in your roots, if I did not do what is unexpected, unconventional—you would die.

But because you are worthy and I love you in such a way, I am going to make your life stinky.

I’m going to add manure to your life so that you may grow and produce fruit.

God’s reign of extravagant grace unfolds. It is a reign of justice—where no one is marginalized, where no one is ruthless or fruitless.

It is a reign of beauty—where we see the connection between our God, God's presence, and God's gift of dignity to all people.

It is a reign of reconciliation—bringing together what has been separated by the forces constantly telling us we are not worthy.

And it is a reign of wholeness—bringing about new life, where we do not evaluate people by what they have or what they look like.

Yes, in many cases, in many ways, in our lives, we must go through the manure to learn and to grow.

How many of you feel that your life stinks?

I hope we do—because that means, as David reminded us, the only thing we need to do is lay where we are and receive the unconditional grace of God that fertilizes our lives.

For you and I to grow and be fruitful.

And in that fruitfulness, the divine compassion of our God will be made flesh—made tangible—through our words and through our actions, when we approach people for who they are and whose they are, with a God-given dignity.

Because of the worth given to them when God said, "It is good. You are my child. I am with you."

As we prepare for this congregational meeting, my brothers and sisters, my siblings in Christ, I invite you to think about that.

Because what we are going to do today—what we are going to talk about today in this congregational meeting—is exactly that.

How you and I are going to be rooted in this community.

And how, if we want to be rooted in this community, we need to allow this manure to truly bring us the nutrients we need—so that we may be witnesses in this place, for the healing of this community.

So that you and I—and all the community—can grow together.

And so that we can say to one another:

Because you are worthy, we are walking together.

For that, let us give thanks to God.

Thanks be to God—for the stinky life we are able to live together.

Amen.