🎙️ “The Sower” — A Monologue
(spoken with calm reverence and growing urgency)
You ever wonder… why truth doesn’t always stick?
Why some hear it, and it changes their life —
and others?
It bounces off like rain on stone.
Let me tell you what I saw.
There was a man —
a sower — walking the land.
He didn’t choose perfect ground.
He just… scattered seed.
Everywhere.
Like hope, flying out of his hand.
Some of it fell on the path —
hard, beaten down by footsteps and time.
It never had a chance.
The birds were waiting.
They came quick.
Snatched it.
Gone.
And I thought…
I know that path.
I’ve walked it.
Maybe I’ve been it.
Then some seed landed on rocky places —
where the soil was thin,
and the roots had nowhere to run.
At first?
Oh, it looked good.
It sprang up fast, reaching for the sky like it believed.
But when the sun rose, hot and real…
it burned.
And it had no root to hold on.
So it died.
And I thought…
How many times have I bloomed too fast?
Full of fire… but no foundation.
Then I saw the thorns.
Tall. Enticing.
And seed fell there, too.
It started to grow —
but the weeds were quicker.
They wrapped tight,
choked the life out of it.
They whispered things like,
“Make money.”
“Be safe.”
“Don’t stand out.”
“God can wait.”
And it withered —
not from lack of light,
but from too many shadows.
But then…
Then, I saw something else.
Some of that seed —
it landed in good soil.
Deep, rich, open ground.
It drank the rain.
It felt the sun.
And it held firm when the wind came.
And oh… it grew.
Not just a little.
It multiplied.
Thirty. Sixty. A hundred times what was sown.
And I realized…
The seed?
It’s the Word.
The truth.
The voice of the Kingdom.
But the soil?
The soil… is me.
It’s you.
It’s what we are when no one else is looking.
So now I ask…
Not what kind of seed was thrown.
But what kind of ground…
am I?
Michael Forty