The Smallest of Seeds

Introduction: The following are portions of a sermon I preached for my classmates at the Seminary on the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 13 verses 31-33. I haven't written in my blog since January, but I have been busy writing - so I thought I'd just put a little of it out there for my faithful Life-in-Tents followers. Writing sermons has taken up a majority of my creative writing these days, so I apologize for my absence.

"The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; ³² it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches." Matthew 13:31-33

In 5th grade, I had the desire to grow something in my mom's garden. I can still remember the anticipation I felt when I planted those first seeds in the ground. I waited anxiously for signs of growth every day. I watered it. I visited often, walking around it and imagining when it would be ready. And then, little by little it grew before my eyes until, after several weeks of waiting, I harvested my cucumber and joyously hoisted that fat green tube-like vegetable victoriously over my head. Even now, I still feel a sense of child-like awe when thinking about the process of growth. Then one day as an adult, I had another desire – to don an apron and bake something from scratch. I got the chance during my first year of marriage – it was my wife's birthday, and I was going to bake a cake. I was a bit anxious looking over that recipe – wondering how so many different ingredients could possibly mix together into a delicious tasting cake. And, sure enough, just as with the cucumber, the mixture of ingredients plus waiting resulted in a transformation – a miracle growth.

These simple transformations – from the cucumber to the cake to the story of the mustard seed still leave me in awe. How can something as simple as planting little seeds in the dirt lead to something so amazing? How is this natural process like the kingdom of heaven? Imagine hearing this parable for the first time. Would it go in one ear and out the other, or would you be left pondering the mystery of God's work? There is something so compellingly wonderful about the kingdom of heaven and what it's like. As one commentator puts it, "The miracle of nature symbolized by the mustard seed, which develops from the smallest of beginnings to an astonishing fullness, is similar to the reality of the kingdom." So, the question remains: what's so great about a kingdom that is so small and often overlooked?

"Smallest" of seeds leads to the greatest of shrubs and welcoming a little child translates to the least being the greatest. What is the secret to all of this small talk? For starters, how about a small, lowly stable serving as shelter for a certain babe wrapped in swaddling cloth? Do beginnings get any smaller than that? So too, the greatness of the mustard seed is in its smallness, its humility. Where else can one appreciate the beauty of smallness? Look no further than God's creation: Imagine standing on the beach and listening to the rhythmic pounding of ocean waves upon the eroding sand under your toes or gazing up at a pitch black sky, dazzled by millions of stars which shine throughout an endless galaxy - or hiking through forests, feeling small in comparison to the hundreds of trees which have endured years of violent storms, drought and still grow taller and thicker...

Being small is a daily burial of our selfishness, our impatience, our hopelessness and our desire to be big – a dying of self into the dirt and soil of discipleship. We're watered in the remembrance of our baptism, fed and nourished in the bread and the wine and inspired by the preaching of the Word, sent out by the breath of the Holy Spirit. Like little cucumber or mustard seeds, we wait in wonder: when will we sprout to the surface and reap the fruit of the harvest? Yes, we wait in wonder. Waiting in wonder can lead to growth of the negative type: growing anxious or impatient. Waiting is difficult. From traffic jams, to the grocery store line to the internship placement process… Waiting stretches our patience thin. With timing out of our hands we wait for an answer to a prayer, wait to heal, wait for a job interview, wait to get pregnant, wait for the flood waters to recede… Feeling small and overlooked, we struggle to become known by stimulating our growth somehow, as if asking "Are we there yet?" "Are we there yet?" "Are we there yet?" is going to result in arriving where we want to arrive. Yet, little by little, in the smallness of our waiting, God is revealing the kingdom of heaven within and around us. One little sprout, one little ingredient at a time, we're creeping toward the surface, changing – transforming. We are but yeast, imperceptible or hidden when first mixed into a lump of dough, yet having an eventual, inevitable, and awesome effect upon the whole… Dead and buried to self, God raises us from our smallest of beginnings to an astonishing fullness feeding all who hunger for the good news of Jesus Christ.

We will continue to wait in wonder along the way - but we are not alone. Soaked and sustained by God's love, we're given an endless supply of the light of hope. Hope is to us what Miracle Grow is to cucumber seeds, fertilizing our little roots of faith. In her book, "Apprenticed to Hope, A Sourcebook for Difficult Times," author Julie Neraas, puts the image of hope this way: "Hope hums silently beneath the surface, content to do its work in the background. It lives at a layer of reality far deeper and far less visible..." (pg. XIV) Our hope is secure within the reality of the kingdom of heaven – not some future reality, but our NOW reality. NOW is the reality and promise of Jesus Christ for you.

Like an excited 5th grade boy harvesting his first cucumber, Jesus joyously hoists you up - giving you strength in your smallness and hope in your waiting. From smallest of beginnings to the conqueror of death itself, Jesus Christ is mixing into the ingredients of your day, your week and your very being – raising you to new life through your learning, waiting and yes, even your smallness. Amen.