“He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
Matthew 17:20 (NIV)

Have you ever looked at a mustard seed? They are tiny little things. In first-century Israel they were among the smallest seeds that ordinary people would have been familiar with. At only 1–2 mm across, they seem almost insignificant.

Until they begin to grow.

Mustard plants grow quickly. They grow enthusiastically, almost wildly. Once established, they don’t like to be constrained. They spread with joyful abandon.

I’ve always loved this image because it feels so familiar to my own faith journey.

I think a seed of faith was planted in me as a child, but for years it lay dormant. I lived my life paying little attention to it, tending my spiritual garden as I saw fit rather than listening to the Gardener.

Then, one day, my mustard seed was no longer dormant.

When exactly did it happen? Was it the morning I first walked into church? Was it sitting in an Agnostics Anonymous meeting, explaining my understanding of the universe, only to realise—in a true Scooby-Doo-style reveal—that “the universe” I’d been trusting was God all along?

I honestly don’t think the exact moment matters.

What matters is that the seed began to grow.

Now it grows with gusto. My roots sink a little deeper each day as I grow and explore my faith, and my prayer is that, in time, my branches might provide shade, comfort and hope for others.

Jesus says that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. I don’t actually need my faith to move mountains. These days, I trust that if there’s a mountain in front of me, then God has a purpose for it. Perhaps it’s there to climb, perhaps it’s there to walk around, or perhaps it’s simply there to remind me that He is bigger than it is.

What still surprises me is how naturally I’ve come to fall back into God’s hands and trust that He will catch me—and, when I look back, he always has. His timing has always been perfect even if I didn’t realise it in the moment.

My mustard seed is well and truly awake now.

And so I’m learning, slowly and imperfectly, to trust not just that He makes it grow, but that He knows exactly what it is becoming—and that in His hands, even the smallest beginning is never rushed, never wasted, and never forgotten.

-Laura