“The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed planted in a field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but it becomes the largest of garden plants; it grows into a tree, and birds come and make nests in its branches.” — Matthew 13:31–32, NLT
Introduction: The Kingdom in the Cracks
It always begins small.
God, it seems, delights in planting eternity into the tiniest soil of time. A whisper at creation. A baby in a manger. A fisherman’s lunch. A widow’s coin. A prisoner’s letter. A mustard seed.
Yet smallness is rarely attractive to us. In a world that idolizes the big, the bold, and the instant, we often overlook the places God most frequently shows up—the small.
Our culture of spiritual urgency and self-optimization has a bias against beginnings. We celebrate outcomes, milestones, and platforms—but Scripture invites us to pay attention to seeds. Jesus didn’t say the Kingdom resembles a tree. He said it is like a mustard seed. In that comparison, we are called to notice what is small, hidden, slow-growing, and full of potential.
This is where sacred noticing begins: in learning to see as Jesus sees—into the small and the slow.
Biblical Reflection: The Seed that Carries the Kingdom
The mustard seed metaphor appears in all three Synoptic Gospels, yet Matthew’s version is perhaps the most poetically compressed. The seed is “the smallest,” the tree “the largest,” and the result is a sheltering place for birds. From the seemingly insignificant, the Kingdom grows into a home for others.
This is a deeply Jewish metaphor. Trees in the Hebrew Scriptures are often symbols of nations or kingdoms (cf. Ezekiel 17:22–24; Daniel 4:10–12). Jesus subverts this imagery: instead of a mighty cedar or stately oak, the Kingdom begins with the humble, spicy, and somewhat wild mustard plant.
This is the pattern of the Kingdom:
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Small to great.
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Hidden to revealed.
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Insignificant to sheltering.
And the seed doesn’t just represent outcomes—it reflects people too. Jesus was identifying with the seed. So are we.
God doesn’t wait for us to “get big” before He starts using us. He plants us small—right in the middle of ordinary life—and invites us to root down and trust the growth to Him.
A Story: The Veteran and the Volunteer Manager
He didn’t say much at first.
The hospice admission notes described him as a stoic war veteran. No visitors. No spiritual preference. "Doesn’t want to talk about God,” one nurse had jotted in the chart. But something in his silence pulled at me—not as a chaplain in a professional role, but as a fellow human bearing witness to another’s final season.
I was serving then as the hospice volunteer manager and chaplain. Each week, I’d stop by his house, never forcing conversation—just offering presence. I’d comment on the weather, ask about the old photos on his shelf, listen to his silence. Slowly, he started opening up—first about his service, then about the regret he carried like a second skin, and finally about the loneliness that hung heavier than his illness.
One day, out of the blue, he asked, “Do you really believe God sees people like me?”
I paused. Prayed silently. Then answered simply, “Yes. Especially people like you.”
That seed—small as it seemed—landed in soil ready to receive. Over the next few days, we spoke about grace, about Jesus, about what it means to be forgiven and made whole. In the quiet hours one afternoon, that veteran—a man who had buried faith beneath decades of pain—opened his heart to Christ.
No stage. No choir. Just two chairs in a dimly lit room in the house. A soul reborn.
He passed a few days later with a peace none of us had seen in him before.
I remember going back to my car afterward, deeply moved by how something so small—weekly visits, quiet consistency, a few honest words—had led to something so eternal.
The mustard seed had become a tree.
Spiritual Practice: Noticing the Small
This week, practice sacred noticing by engaging in The Seed Exercise:
The Seed Exercise
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Take a literal seed—mustard, sunflower, or anything you have. Hold it in your palm.
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Sit in silence for a few minutes. Observe the smallness. Reflect on what God may be planting in you.
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Ask God: “Where are You working in small ways in my life right now?”
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Journal a response or a prayer of surrender to the slow work of God.
Why This Matters: The Way of the Kingdom
The way of Jesus is not about arriving quickly—it’s about growing deeply.
When we learn to notice the small, we begin to understand that significance in the Kingdom is never measured by size. It’s measured by faithfulness and fruitfulness.
Small acts—encouraging a friend, making a meal, reading Scripture aloud to a child, starting the day with five minutes of silence—become Kingdom soil. Jesus doesn’t dismiss the small; He dignifies it.
“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin…”
— Zechariah 4:10
Reflection Questions
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What are the small beginnings in your life right now?
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Where have you overlooked something God might be growing?
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How do you feel about the slow and hidden work of spiritual growth?
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Who or what has “sheltered” you in a mustard seed moment?
Closing Prayer
Lord of mustard seeds and miracles,Open my eyes to the small wonders of today.
Teach me not to overlook what You are planting.
Root me in trust, water me with grace,
And let Your Kingdom grow in and through me—slowly, humbly, and faithfully.
Amen.
Next Up: "In the Pause – Where Rest Becomes a Form of Resistance"
In our next post, we’ll explore how sacred noticing happens in the pause—when we choose rest in a world that demands constant motion. We’ll discover how stopping isn’t laziness, but defiance against the tyranny of hurry, and how Sabbath becomes a radical act of trust.
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