Preached on Sunday, October 5, 2025, the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, at Trinity Cathedral, Little Rock.

“Jesus said, ‘If you had faith the size of a mustard seed.’” (Luke 17:5)

We love this passage, don’t we?

We love this passage because it’s so familiar. For me, this was one of the first Bible stories I was ever taught. Maybe it was for you, too. 

And we love this passage because we love a good mustard seed story, the seemingly smallest of seeds that have the most surprising and substantial of impacts. We love a boy from a place called Hope ending up in the White House. We love a beautifully renovated downtown library envisioned and made possible by a city of supporters. (In fact, I wrote this sermon at the newly renovated Main Library.) We love a Razorback win with Petrino after an embarrassing start to the season—or at least we hope for one. Maya Angelou, Johnny Cash, Daisy Bates, Adolphine Terry: we Arkansans love a good mustard seed story.

But above all, we love this passage because, in our heart of hearts, we know that it’s true. In our heart of hearts, we know that, in the economy of God, a little goes a long way. “Jesus said, ‘If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”’” In our heart of hearts, we know that what Jesus says is true.

And we know that this passage is true because we all have our own mustard seed stories, don’t we? Here’s one of mine.

Before we moved to Little Rock, Lillian and I lived in Alexandria, Virginia, just across the Potomac from Washington, both of us working at St. Paul’s Church there in Old Town. During our years there, the congregation discerned a call to respond to the increasing wealth inequality in our world and especially in our city, finding a way to support the financial wellness of the disadvantaged. But the congregation also felt the burden of mulberry trees that seemed impossible to move, systems that seemed too resistant for them to make any difference. Well, a group of parishioners discerned what started as a mustard seed idea and what became known as the St. Paul’s Damascus Project: a partnership with another local organization to support under-served entrepreneurs in the city of Alexandria, particularly women entrepreneurs. The project offered microloans at little to no interest to combat predatory loaning practices; it ensured credit building opportunities; and it provided bilingual technical assistance and business education. And the parishioners raised an astounding $150,000 to get the project started. A year after it launched, a number of these inspiring entrepreneurs came to St. Paul’s, Old Town to share their stories and pitch their businesses—and they were all just amazing. Now in its third year, the St. Paul’s Damascus Project only continues to thrive. Not bad for a mustard seed. 

We also know that this passage is true because of what we have experienced closer to home––right here at Trinity Cathedral. Book Club, our Wednesday evening adult formation offering, now in its second year, had two people on the very first night and has now grown to between 20 and 30, sometimes even 40. Koinonia, our beloved child-centered weekday worship service, started with just a couple of families and has grown to at least 60 people each time. The All Saints’ Guild, our ministry to support funeral services and grieving families, started with one person, Trinity parishioner Joan Baldrige, and with her own experience of grief surrounding a funeral. From there, the ministry has blossomed into what it is today, even inspiring other congregations to build similar ministries of their own. And of course, this entire Cathedral is the fruit of someone’s faithful vision: Bishop Pierce, who discerned it, promoted it, fundraised for it, and built it— and not alone, but with a whole host of supporters gathered along the way. Again, I say, to each of these stories and to so many more: not bad for a mustard seed.

And even closer to home, we know that this passage is true because we have experienced in our own lives: maybe you only had a tiny amount of trust in the Church, and then you came to Church here, and the Church showed up for you in a big way; maybe you only mustered up a tiny amount of forgiveness for someone, but then to your surprise, your relationship was restored; maybe you were bogged down by fear, but then you found just a tiny bit of courage in yourself, and that courage ended up sustaining you. Again: not bad for a mustard seed.

Mustard seeds: the seemingly smallest of seeds that have the most surprising and substantial of impacts. And “Jesus said, ‘If you just had faith the size of a mustard seed.’”

Why does God work this way? Why is it that, in the economy of God, a little goes a long way? Why is this how God does business?

I can think of at least three reasons.

First, God works this way because God loves to show off. God loves taking something small and doing something enormous. God loves it when we’re surprised. God loves to work in the realm of the unexpected, where our limitations make room for divine possibility. God works this way because God loves to show off.

Second, God works this way because God wants us to know that it’s God Who is at work in our lives. When mustard seeds uproot mulberry trees, it leaves us thinking, “there has to be something––or Someone––helping out here. There has to be Someone at work in my life that is making this possible.” When we have a mustard seed moment, we look back and think, “there’s no way I pulled that off alone,” and we’re left with wonder—and gratitude. That’s when faith deepens: when we stop trusting in our own power and start trusting in the One Who gives it in the first place. God works this way because God wants us to know that it’s God Who is at work in our lives.

And third––and perhaps most importantly!––God works this way because God wants us to know that we have all that we need. In a world that says we don’t have enough––and in a religion that can make us feel like we don’t believe enough!––here, Jesus reassures us that a little goes a long way. A mustard seed-sized faith is perfectly fine––in fact, more than fine, just what God wants. We bring what we have, and God takes it and blesses it. That’s good news for all of us who feel small, because with God, small is never the end of the story. As Karl Barth once put it, “if we have faith as a grain of mustard seed, that suffices for the devil to have lost his game” [1].

God works this way because God wants us to know that we have all that we need.
Now, this doesn’t seem to make things any easier for us, especially when we are surrounded by mulberry trees of countless varieties that don’t seem to stand a chance to our measly, mustard seed-sized faith. But maybe there’s something to the mustard seed stories we tell ourselves that can help keep us hopeful––and maybe that’s a reason to keep telling our stories! After all, such stories remind us that God has done much with very little before. And when we carry stories like that, who knows what God might do next? Amen.

[1] Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline (New York: Harper, 1947).