READING:
Luke Luke 17.5–10

Small Seeds

I wonder if there have been moments in your life when you have felt completely overwhelmed? Perhaps that’s how you are feeling even now. The sheer weight of responsibilities, the endless cycle of news about conflict, poverty, and climate crisis, or the struggles within our own families and communities can all feel too much to bear. The list of circumstances is endless, often deeply personal, and at times almost crushing.

It seems the disciples of Jesus knew something of that feeling too. Just before today’s gospel passage, Jesus had told them that they must forgive other people endlessly—even if someone sins against them seven times in a single day. It is little wonder that the disciples blurted out: “Increase our faith!” It was the cry of people who felt they were being asked to do the impossible.

I wonder how you and I would have responded if Jesus had said to us: “forgive endlessly”?
Could we really forgive those who have hurt us or the ones we love—not once, but over and over again?

The disciples’ plea is probably our plea too. “Lord, we don’t have enough faith.” Who hasn’t felt that their faith is too small for the demands placed upon them—too weak in the face of suffering, injustice, or the daily grind of relationships that test our patience?

And yet Jesus’ reply is not what we might expect. He does not hand them a bigger portion of faith as though it were money or fuel that can be measured and stored. Instead, he says that even faith the size of a mustard seed—barely visible to the eye—can do what seems absurd: uproot a mulberry tree and plant it in the sea.

I wonder if Jesus was smiling when he said this, knowing that everyone listening would think the image ridiculous?
Trees do not grow in oceans! And yet that was precisely his point.
Faith is not about quantity. It is about trusting enough to begin, however small that beginning might be.

This is profoundly good news for anyone who feels fragile in their faith. Faith is not certainty, nor is it about having intense religious feelings. Rather, faith is the courage to lean, however lightly, on God’s possibility. A questioning, hesitant faith can be powerful—not because of its strength, but because of the One in whom it rests.

I wonder if you have ever thought that your faith “doesn’t count” because it feels too small or too unsure?

Jesus’ strange example of mulberry trees in the sea is deliberately outrageous.
It pushes our imagination beyond the limits of what we think possible. Too often, we shrink faith down to what seems realistic or achievable by our own efforts. But God’s vision always exceeds our pragmatism.

Mustard-seed faith dares to imagine peace in Gaza, justice for refugees turned away at borders, reconciliation between communities long divided. It does not promise instant solutions or miraculous spectacles, but it insists on the possibility of love where love seems impossible.

I wonder what situation in your life feels impossible just now—where you can only bring the tiniest seed of faith, and yet still long for God’s transforming work?

Placed within the wider flow of Luke’s gospel, this reading sits between stories of forgiveness, gratitude, and the coming kingdom. Just before it, Jesus warns about stumbling blocks and commands unlimited forgiveness—overwhelming demands indeed. Just after it, he heals ten lepers, and only one returns to give thanks. The thread is clear: discipleship is about mercy, humility, gratitude, and readiness for God’s surprising kingdom.

For Luke’s first hearers—small, struggling Christian communities in the shadow of the Roman Empire, with the Temple destroyed and their Jewish identity contested—these words carried both challenge and comfort. Faith did not need to be vast to be real. Even the smallest trust could sustain them through persecution and fear. Their calling was to serve, not to bargain for status or privilege. Their hope lay not in empire but in God’s hidden reign.

I wonder how these words might sound if you were part of a vulnerable, marginalised community – afraid of the future, and unsure if you had the strength to endure?

For us, the passage speaks with equal power. When we are overwhelmed by the scale of the world’s suffering, or by the demands of forgiveness in our own families, we do not need heroic faith. Mustard-seed faith is enough. When we are tempted to serve in order to be noticed or thanked, we are reminded that love is not a performance but a gift freely given. And when fear whispers that we are not enough, Jesus reassures us that God works even through the smallest beginnings.

I wonder if you have ever discovered that something you thought was tiny—a simple word of encouragement, a quiet act of kindness – turned out to carry extraordinary weight for someone else?

Faith, Jesus tells us, is not about success or recognition. It is about trusting that God’s possibilities break through in hidden, unexpected ways. A seed of trust can become shelter for many. A whispered prayer can join with countless others to sustain the world. A gesture of love, given without fanfare, can mend a broken relationship.

So perhaps the disciples’ cry can become our prayer too. Not “Lord, increase our faith” as though we needed a warehouse full of it, but “Lord, teach us to trust that even this tiny seed of faith is enough.” Enough to forgive. Enough to keep serving in love. Enough to imagine peace in places of war. Enough to hope when hope seems gone.

That is the path of discipleship: costly, yes, and often overwhelming. But it is also the way in which God’s impossible possibilities take root- one mustard seed at a time.

I wonder: what small seed of faith are you carrying with you today?

Photo Credit: Vitaly Gariev (Unsplash.com)