Lord our little mustard seeds of faith. So small, so insignificant, hardly considered precious by most. Yet Lord you see things differently. You take our small seeds of faith You plant it, water it with your love and divine plans. But before a tree can grow, the seed must die, must be transformed for new life to come. That small green shoot rising from the dead earth. We don't know what you are up to most times. We get angry at this death. We question your character - how could a loving God allow this?! Yet Lord, you see things differently. We see our seed of faith - dead and buried. You see the grand tree within. You alone know the journey of death required for us to transform, to be made new. If only we could trust you more. If only we could see the bigger divine plan. But then maybe it's not about the knowing or understanding, but about the resting and the trusting. Entrusting our seed of faith, our lives into the hands of Jesus. Resting in the soil of death until all is right and ready to grow. We know not the seasons when buried in the soil. We know not what water or conditions we need to germinate. That knowledge resides with our divine gardener. How much we have to learn from the humble mustard seed! So small, yet full of a potential of such magnificent proportions when entrusted to our Heavenly Father.
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