Stories Jesus Told:
Little is Much When God is In It
Matthew 13: 31-33
“Little things mean a lot.” “Big things come in small packages.” These are both quaint sayings that we have heard all our lives, and they do, in some respects, represent the truth that Jesus was seeking to communicate in these parables. But I rather like the philosophy communicated by the title of an old gospel song that says Little is Much When God is in It. That title captures the essence of what Jesus was trying to say in these two parables concerning the Kingdom of Heaven.
Jesus, the master story-teller, drew his stories from sources familiar to his listeners. In Matthew Chapter 13, Jesus masterfully weaves a collection of stories from everyday life in first century Palestine. There was the story of the seed and the sower, the story of the wheat and tares, and now this story about the mustard seed. Palestine was an agrarian economy. Almost everyone farmed something. It was the way the common person lived. Then Jesus went from the garden to the home, and who would not have known the smell of freshly baked bread wafting its pleasant aroma past the nose. You and I know what it’s like. Don’t you think these hearers would have known, too? Yet he weaves these last two together to communicate a timeless truth about Kingdom living—Little is Much When God is in It!
Simply in the interest of time, I want us to concentrate on the parable of the mustard seed. The mustard plant of Israel is different from the mustard plant we are familiar with today. We go down to the feed and seed store and tell the clerk we want an ounce of mustard seed, and we will get enough seed to plant an abundance of a plant that will come up and make a rather large bush. We harvest those leaves, take them home, boil them up and make some pot liquor, fry up some corn bread, and we’re set for a great meal, especially if you’ve got fried pork chops. That’s what we used to call in Jackson Parish “soul food.”
The mustard seed Jesus referred to is very similar to the mustard seed we are familiar with, but more particularly, he was referring to the black mustard. The black mustard grew wild along roadsides and in fields, and was actually a tree rather than the bush we are accustomed to. The black mustard tree would grow to a height of as much as 15 feet. Its seed, much like ours, was used as a condiment and for its oil. And it was not an uncommon sight to see these roadside trees filled with birds, for they, too, loved the seeds produced by the tree. They would shelter in its branches and feast on the bounty of its goodness. Jesus was painting a vivid picture, the scenes of which the crowd would be well familiar.
But they were familiar with more than the scene. They were familiar with the images that lay behind the scene. Likely, as Jesus taught along the shores of the Sea of Galilee, most of his hearers were Jewish. In the Old Testament, one of the most common references to a great kingdom is that of a great tree. They would likely be familiar with the prophet Ezekiel and his words in Ezekiel 31:5-6:
This great tree (referring to the nation of Egypt) towered above all the other trees around it. It prospered and grew long thick branches because of all the water at its roots. [6] The birds nested in its branches, and in its shade all the wild animals gave birth to their young. All the great nations of the world lived in its shadow.
Jesus was pointing out to his hearers that the Kingdom of Heaven was beginning right there among them, and though its beginnings were humble, there was no telling where it might end.
Imagine with me for a moment the profundity of this parable. The Kingdom comes in small, almost un-noticed ways. But it never ends there. Think with me for a moment of the invading Kingdom in a small village called Bethlehem, an invasion that was virtually un-noticed by anyone beyond some shepherds, three wise men, and a few angels. But what invaded the world that quiet evening has grown to become the salvation of all humanity. It became a movement that swept and changed the world, and transformed the hearts and lives of billions of people from all generations, and from all nations and races. H. G. Wells, who was an agnostic at best, an atheist at worst, said Jesus “is easily the dominant figure of history.” He would further say that any historian, regardless of theological bias, simply cannot portray history accurately without giving proper place to “a penniless teacher from Nazareth.” What started in a little village, in a little baby, became the greatest transformation the world has ever known. It happened because little is much when God is in it.
And Jesus, with the telling of this story, planted a mustard seed into the hearts of the disciples that day. It was this little band of followers who would live to change the world. But as they stood looking over an empty tomb there must have been moments of great despair. They were so few in number, and the world was so big. How were they to ever accomplish the task of building the Kingdom? They accomplished the task because the Kingdom came to them. Jesus planted the seed of faith, it was watered by the pain of his death, it sprouted as a tree of hope upon his resurrection, and it became the resting place for the nations when the Holy Spirit was poured out on 120 of Jesus’ followers fifty days after Jesus ascended into heaven. Oh, yes! The kingdom came into the hearts of those disciples in an almost un-noticed fashion, but it grew into the church, God’s church. Is there a doubt that little is much when God is in it?
The Kingdom invades the church still. All over the world, little seeds of revival are planted in an almost un-noticed way, or at the very least, an unsuspecting way. But something happens to water the seed, and the seed takes root, and it grows into a ground-swell of God’s grace bringing transformation and restoration, healing and salvation. I am reminded of the story of Ginghamsburg United Methodist Church in Tipp City, Ohio. It was a little church of about 60 folks located in a corn field in a small town outside Columbus, Ohio, when a young man named Michael Slaughter came there as their pastor. But God planted the seed of revival in that congregation, and it grew, and grew, and grew, and grew until that little church of 60 became a church of 6,000 people, changing lives around the world through its ministries.
I am also reminded of a little college called Asbury College in Wilmore, Kentucky. Did you hear that story? In 1970, a student stood as chapel services closed and he simply confessed that he had been a phony. With tears streaming down his face, he told of the emptiness of his Christian profession and begged his classmates and God for forgiveness from his hypocrisy. No sooner had that young man sat down than a young lady stood and laid the same burden upon the altar. One by one, students rose and began coming forward to pray. They filled the altar and overflowed into the aisles and front pews. Their earnest supplications erupted into tears of repentance. The chapel hour’s close was announced by a ringing bell, but no one left. For eight consecutive days--185 hours, the revival on that little campus continued uninterrupted. Classes were cancelled because the students did not attend. God was bringing revival, and it started as God planted a seed in one student’s heart, and it grew into a great tree where hundreds of students found rest and salvation. I tell you the truth—little is much when God is in it!
As the Kingdom invaded that student’s heart at Asbury College, so the Kingdom invades our heart as well. God plants the seeds of his Kingdom in so many ways. An act of love or act of kindness, almost un-noticed by us, takes root, and grows until we come to experience the grace of salvation in Jesus Christ.
She was average in a non-descript sort of way. There was nothing that drew attention to her; she was just always there. Her long-sleeved, high-neck dresses were a constant, and those round, no-rim eyeglasses (man! I can still see them today) set her squared facial features firmly in my memory. Her gray hair was always so proper lifted up off the neck as it was. She was always the picture of decorum. And the voice, always firm, but ever so gentle when she spoke. She was the quintessential old maid schoolteacher, and she often looked like she stepped right out of some 19th century history book or an old Little House on the Prairie episode. Yet, it was 20th century small town America in which she lived, and for three years, she was my Sunday school teacher. Her name was Flossie Foster.
Miss Flossie, as everyone in the community called her, was always around the church. Never married, she lived her life at the church and for her students, both secular and sacred. Thumbing through old high school yearbooks from Chatham High School when I would visit my grandparents, I would see her picture with her second grade class, and I would think “has this women always been old?” She was a staple around Chatham Methodist Church for as long as I can remember, and I still remember going to her funeral when she died.
Miss Flossie loved her Lord, and her love for the Lord was reflected in her love for the church, and her love for the church was reflected in her faithfulness to whatever task was needed. One of the tasks included teaching the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders in Sunday school every year that she was physically able to do so. It was in that Sunday school class that I remember Miss Flossie best. You and I both know that the last thing on the minds of most 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grade little boys is not Sunday school, or church, or God, or Jesus or any of that stuff. We just wanted to play with friends and have fun, and if that meant we had to sit through a Sunday school lesson, well that was a small price to pay for the companionship and fun that would follow. But it was in that Sunday school class that Miss Flossie planted the seed completely unknown to me, and that seed was watered through the years by other faithful saints, until one day on a dark country road that seed sprouted into a tree of trust in the Lord Jesus Christ.
It happened that way in your life too, or it is happening right now. Some person in your past (either near or distant) told you about the love of God in Jesus Christ. It was the Kingdom invading your life even if you didn’t know it. It was watered by circumstances and people until one day you came to trust Jesus Christ as your Savior, or perhaps that is where you are today. That seed planted so long ago is ready to spring forth into salvation. There is little doubt—little is much when God is in it!
Maybe you are the person God is using to sow the seeds of the Kingdom into the lives of others. Maybe you’re a Sunday school teacher, or a youth counselor, or a small group leader, or you’re just a trusted Christian friend who is sorrowed by the pain of those you know and love, and you share words of grace and hope. Yet, you wonder if what you’re doing is accomplishing anything at all. You think you have no talent, you think you have no grace, you think that God can’t possibly use you. Oh, but God can, and God will. One person, living faithfully can begin a reformation.
One of the great stories of the Christian faith is the story of Telemachus. Telemachus lived in the desert, but something told him he needed to go to Rome. Rome, though supposedly Christian, continued the games of the gladiators. Gladiators fought one another till one was thoroughly defeated, then the edict would go out and the victor would slay the defeated. It was a blood-thirsty game played in an arena before a blood-thirsty crowd. Telemachus found his way to the games along with a crowd of eighty thousand people. Telemachus was horrified as he watched these men slaughtering each other. Finally, he could take no more, and he jumped the arena wall and made his way between the gladiators imploring them to cease this merciless game. He was tossed aside. Again, Telemachus stepped between the gladiators. The crowd became angry and began to pelt him with stones, but still he managed to make his way to the combatants. The overseer of the games gave the signal, a sword flashed in the afternoon light, and Telemachus was dead. The crowd fell silent. It took only a moment, but the crowd realized what had happened; a holy man lay dead at the feet of the gladiators. Something else happened in Rome that day, for there was never another gladiator game. One man, as little and insignificant as he seemed, brought a reformation.
So can you. So can I. We can begin that reformation in our lives, in our homes, in our churches, or at our jobs because we know that little is much when God is in it!
