Mollie, our golden retriever, came to us at 4 years old with a rough story. Put out in a woman’s backyard, rarely brought in and poorly fed, she was a victim of the heat, cold, and severe weather. Though we have certainly spoiled her in every possible way, she is a bottomless pit of need. She’s always begging for food and paws someone for attention relentlessly. Though she came to us a bit withdrawn, once she got a taste of love, she couldn’t get enough. She watches us eat our meal as she sits eye level with the table, her ears perked up, waiting for a morsel of something. She’s hard to resist and finally we fall for it. I’ll say to Ron, “Just give her one piece so she’s satisfied.” I should know better. Once she’s had a bite, the pestering gets worse.
People are a lot like that. All of us grow up with imperfect relationships. Those with happier childhoods don’t seem to live with that gaping hole in their heart but if you come from profound deprivation, you are aware of a bottomless pit no one can fill. The more you’ve been hurt, the higher the expectations you have of the people in your life. Why? Probably because the stakes are high. You don’t want to be hurt again so you feel the need to make the test for love and sincerity steep! If you have not found your home in Jesus, you experience needs that feel monumental. You might think that one gesture of love, one compliment, one affirmation will make a dent in making your heart feeling fuller. But nothing satisfies because the void is God-shaped. Other’s compassion can easily morph into an unhealthy attachment.
Are you in a relationship that is unsatisfying? Perhaps you’d admit that the other person has often come through for you but they just don’t do it often enough or well enough. What has been meaningful in the past is blurred by your ongoing need for more. You want more proof, deeper proof, that you are important and that their love is true. The unfortunate thing is that the more you need, the more the other person backs up. Anger and distrust are soon to follow.
High expectations are met in the love of Christ but let me qualify. He has already proven His love. He came to me when I was His enemy. He died for my crimes as if He committed them Himself. He’s given me His heart, His nature, and shares His eternal inheritance. This love exceeds all expectations. So, I have to be careful that, in my immaturity, I don’t come to God with a list of demands. “If you love me, then You’ll do ‘this’.” His love is already perfect. Picking up my cross is not the same as God withholding. He is not a Father of deprivation but of extravagance.
But for this purpose I have raised you up, to show you my power, so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth. Exodus 9:16 
I am made in God’s image, I have a knowledge of what it’s like to be loved perfectly. That’s the reason it hurts so much when I’m not loved like He loves. God created me for the garden, not for fallen earth. When I cry alone in my room as a little child and no one comes to comfort me, my heart knows that something is terribly wrong. Pain tells me that! My longing for someone’s arms to comfort me is so strong and the problem comes with what I conclude about myself when I continually cry alone. I believe something must be wrong with me, not them. I reason that if I were not flawed, I’d be lovable. I also might conclude that it will always end badly if I choose to be vulnerable. I will also assume that God won’t be available emotionally. either I will feel that I have to hide my pain from Him. Prayer will be uncomfortable. Developing a better prayer life will not be anywhere near the top of my priority list. And why would it if I feel I can’t be honest with God and count on a loving response?
After reviewing this beautiful parable, my intense desire is stirred up again for fertile soil. Yet, I know I can’t make it happen without God’s help. I must admit my inability to grow righteousness through self-effort. The sins of my flesh, resulting in bad soil, are never overcome without the Spirit. With hardened soil, my flesh bends toward unbelief. With stony soil, my flesh emotionally reacts passionately to the Gospel but can’t sustain it long enough to engage in the Spirit-driven lifestyle. With weeds in my soil, my flesh worries and then take matters into my own hands.
This parable has spoken to me so powerfully for the past several years that the truth of the soil types is on my mind constantly. I’ve almost become obsessed by the fourth soil type and I’ve grown to covet its germinating environment. Let’s take our time with each part of the story.
My mother had been battling cancer for more than a year. She was painfully thin. Nonetheless, on a weekend when our family was able to visit, she insisted on making the effort to go to church with us. My mother, not a complainer about anything and prone to suffer silently to a fault, surprised me when she blurted out in frustration. She had put on her favorite dress, looked at herself in the mirror, and said to me as I stood in the doorway, “Look at me! I’m a bag of bones in this dress.” I wanted so much to protest. “No, no, Mom. You look beautiful in the dress.” I caught myself before answering poorly. I said, “I’m sorry you don’t look like you want to look in the dress. These changes have to be horribly painful and I’m so sorry.” 
