Faith the Size of a Mustard Seed
Recently my nephew ranked up in his martial arts class. It was a big deal. He’s been a student of Coung Nhu for seven years, and by passing this latest test, he graduated into the advanced classes with the adults. Coung Nhu is a branch of karate that blends quick, explosive movement with a softer, flowing style like Tai Chi. He did a fantastic job. Passing this test earned him a brown stripe for his green belt.
This transition is a bit like confirmation in the church—he has made the choice for himself to commit to the practice. It’s no longer his parents’ job to make him go to class. He sees its fruits—the result of years of consistency—and wants to go deeper. I’m a proud uncle.
At the end of the test, the sensei awarded new ranks in a familiar liturgical format. The students knelt and stretched out their hands to receive the stripe they would later sew onto their belts. “You can’t let your parents do it for you!” he said. “It’s time to learn to sew.” Then came a brief “sermon” on the meaning behind the colors of the belts.
The white belt, the beginner rank, represents a seed sown in fertile soil—full of unrealized energy and potential. With care and protection, it takes root and begins to grow. The green belt is the sapling stage—still fragile, but sinking deeper roots and forming a strong foundation. The brown belt marks the bark forming on the tree: a time of stability and strength. The tree shifts from needing protection to offering it, becoming a vital member of the forest. Finally, the black belt represents the shade of a mature tree—no longer focused on personal achievement, but on nurturing the growth of others.
As I sat on the dojo mat listening to the sensei’s words, I couldn’t help but hear a parallel with Jesus’ teaching in today’s gospel. The apostles said, “Increase our faith!” They wanted something tangible—a mark of spiritual progress, a new stripe or belt to prove they were advancing. But Jesus redirects them. Faith isn’t something you accumulate or display; it’s something you trust. “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed,” he says, “you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” Even the smallest seed of faith, when entrusted to God, carries life and power beyond measure. Faith is not about achievement, but about participation in God’s ongoing work of growth and renewal.
Then Jesus turns the image on its head. He speaks of a servant who, after working in the field, does not expect thanks for doing what is required. The servant simply serves. It’s as if Jesus is saying: don’t measure discipleship like ranks or rewards. Faith isn’t about recognition, but about steady, humble service—showing up again and again, doing what is ours to do.
Paul makes a similar move in his letter to Timothy: “Rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but of power and love and self-discipline.” Paul isn’t telling Timothy to go get more faith, as if it were a commodity. He’s saying: the gift is already there. Fan it into flame.
Those in my confirmation class this month might hear an echo of the confirmation rite. Like Paul, the bishop lays hands on the confirmands and says, “Strengthen, O Lord, your servant with your Holy Spirit; empower them for your service, and sustain them all the days of their life.”
Our tradition has always cautioned against obsessing over achievement in the spiritual life. It’s unproductive to ask, “What stage am I in?” or “How far have I progressed?” Spirituality is not quantitative; it’s qualitative. There are no tests to pass, no senseis to impress, no new belts to earn. The Christian life is about what Thomas Merton described as “discovering what we already have … Everything has been given to us in Christ. All we need is to experience what we already possess.”
A luxuriant shrub with branches where birds can nest is simply the full expression of a tiny mustard seed—just as a faithful, generous Christian is the full expression of any one of us. A green-belt sapling contains the brown bark and the black-belt shade within it, if it is nurtured and practiced.
I once spent a week at Plum Village, the Buddhist monastery in France founded by Thich Nhat Hanh. One afternoon a monk in the kitchen approached me with a grin, holding out what looked like seeds. “What are these?” he asked. “Seeds,” I said. He laughed, delighted. “No, these aren’t seeds. They’re a lot of hard work.” And he walked away.
It took me a while to understand. He was urging me to see not just the seeds, but the soil and sun that make them sprout, the faithful labor that plants and harvests, the artisans who mill the grain, the bakers who transform it, the community it feeds.
Faith is like that. What looks small or ordinary contains within it the story of God’s grace, the prayers of generations, the power of the Spirit, the witness of those who mentored us, and the possibilities yet to come.
That is why Paul tells Timothy: rekindle the gift. That is why Jesus tells his disciples: faith the size of a mustard seed is enough. It’s not about quantity. It’s about living into what we already have—serving faithfully and trusting that God is at work in ways we cannot always see.
Imagine if we began to see one another this way—not comparing who has the strongest faith or the highest rank, but seeing instead the full expression of God’s creation already present in each person.
If you look at a new student with a crisp white belt and look beyond the untried exterior, you’ll see the encouragement that got them there, the failures and successes to come, the teachers who will support them, and the sturdy tree they are becoming.
The same is true in the church. If you look at the one just baptized or newly confirmed, you can see the prayers of parents and sponsors, the nurture of teachers and mentors, and the sacraments that will shape their faith. And if you look at the elder who has worshiped faithfully for decades, you see not an ending, but a life still unfolding—still serving, still growing, still bearing fruit.
“So,” Paul says, “rekindle the gift of God that is within you.” And Jesus says, “Faith the size of a mustard seed is enough.” White belts and black belts. Seeds and trees. New Christians and wise elders—all beloved of God, called to serve with humility, entrusted with treasure, and empowered by the Spirit.