For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.

At the end of my life, I hope to hear “well done good and faithful servant” not “oh you of little faith”.

Mustard seed faith is genuine faith – sometimes it’s all we can muster – but God has more for us too. If we ask Him to open our eyes to see Him in His fullness, and actually believe that God is who He says He is, we would surely have more. We would surely be confident to take more risks, believing wholeheartedly in the sovereignty of the God we love, and who loves us.

In my hometown, there’s rolling hills that dance across the landscape through winding backroads. In the springtime, wildflowers and kaleidoscope colors cascade across your view. My favorite part about coming home in the spring is seeing the way poppies, lupins, and mustard flowers dominate every landscape there. I think about how small one of those mustard seeds is, but how eventually they multiply so that all you can see are clouds of yellow painting the rolling hills. 

This is the kind of faith we’re called to have: faith that builds in such a way that no one can escape it. That catches like a wildfire. That you can’t help but pour out onto the spaces and places you inhabit. For some, mustard seed faith is as far as they ever get, knowing God can still move mountains but not taking the chances to build mighty and resilient faith. And yet, when mustard seeds are fed, they can’t help but multiply. To pour out. To invade.

To embrace the fullness of a mustard seed is to watch it grow abundantly. If it doesn’t, it’s often because something along the way chokes its roots, dries its water up, or stunts its growth. A storm. A drought. Fear. Worry. Doubt. 

When our faith isn’t fed, seeds don’t spread. And when trials come, it cannot withstand. While I would consider myself a person with relatively bold and resilient faith, I still wrestle with doubt and I can still relate to all the stories of those with little faith, but through the person of Jesus, we come to know God. He has given us all of Him through His son, Jesus. Thus, the cross is enough to know that God is faithful. His faithfulness doesn’t always manifest through us getting what we want or hope for, but faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Christ is the only one in whom we can place all our hope and expectation and never leave empty-handed. Mustard seed faith grows into abundant fields of depth, intimacy, and hope in Jesus when we continue to believe in His goodness and trustworthiness.

Setting the Bar

As I set out on a fundraising journey for Dressember last month, I was reminded of this truth and of relying not on my strength, but the God who sees all, knows all, and is in all. At the beginning of the month, I prayed for a number. There was a part of me that knew I could set the bar higher, but I felt good about starting with $1200. For some reason, even playing it “safe” felt daunting at the time, but what I had to give was a mustard seed. The fundraising process wasn’t foreign to me, but it wasn’t something I felt very confident about. As I watched God far exceed my expectations and prayers in fundraising, I was wildly humbled. My soul jolted awake, and I was reminded of the meager offering I’ve given to God: limited belief in a limitless God.

Yahweh doesn’t always answer prayers in the ways we might hope He would, but this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pray them. Through this part of the journey, I was reminded of the faith God asks of me, and the trust He is worthy of. 

In settling on a number, I hadn’t factored Him in. I factored in human strength, effort and power, and in so doing, exercised little faith. At the time though, it felt like a lot. Wearing a dress as a symbol of solidarity for an entire month felt like a lot, but only because I forgot that when we’re weak, we’re strong. God is worth so much more than little faith. Even so, He takes what little we have and multiplies it to move mountains. Thankfully, God is still faithful even when we aren’t. He can move even when we’re afraid and have shaky faith.

Oh You Of Little Faith

I heard the words ring in my ear so clearly as I watched my fundraising goal be met and surpassed in the first two days of the month: oh you of little faith. 

God doesn’t always move in the same ways, so surely the element of surprise is part of trusting in Him. A lot of times He’s an eleventh hour God. He shows up right when we think all hope is lost. When rent is due and we have no money in our checking account. When our relationships are hanging on by a thread and we can’t see the way through. When a woman suffers internally for twelve years and has tried everything to be healed. When the world goes dark and there’s no cure for blindness. That’s when God’s power often shines. 

This time though, He was an in the wee hours of the morning on the first day kind of God. I set the bar low, but He displayed His power nonetheless. I was afraid of failing, so I played it safe. God saw I had forgotten who He was, so by grace, He showed me again.

These words, oh you of little faith, didn’t draw me into shame; they drew me into humility. They brought me back to the feet of Jesus to remember His power. These words wrapped me into the arms of God in holy conviction, in awe of what He can do. 

Why did I think it would go any differently?

Our God is the Everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He is the only one who can quiet the winds and the waves, multiply bread loaves to feed thousands, bring the dead back to life, walk on water and heal in ways we could never ask, think, or imagine. 

Oh you of little faith.

This refrain is only mentioned four times in scripture, one of which is the famous story of Peter and Jesus walking on water in Matthew 14. Each time, this phrase is Jesus’ response to an expression of fear, doubt or anxious preoccupation among his disciples. It is not motivated by a complete lack of faith, but for an insufficient amount, especially from those who have witnessed some of Jesus’ greatest miracles.

I heard once that some believe the invitation to come out upon the water wasn’t just an invitation for Peter; he was just the one bold enough to climb out of the boat and leave his friends behind. We often remember the mighty faith that drew him out onto the waters, but often forget the shaky faith that made him fall in. And yet, through that doubt and worry, Jesus presents the true invitation. The invitation to trust in him as the mighty one who makes a way when there is no way.

Along the winding road of life with Jesus, in more ways than one, I have identified with Peter and his child-like faith. It’s not just his willing heart that has made him relatable for me, but his momentary, meager faith too. The way he says he’d never forget Jesus, how he’d always fight for him, but then denies him three times. 

For Peter, it was never for lack of trying. It was never for lack of honor, integrity, or heart. Fear got the best of him sometimes, but Peter so desired to love and serve God, to believe wholeheartedly that God is who He says He is. I see myself in Peter. Often I feel I have enough faith to step out, but not always enough to sustain me. Maybe you can relate to that too.

It’s the condition of little faith that holds us back, keeps us secure in our position. It’s sobering, really, to realize that even those who walked closely with Jesus wrestled with faith. That even the ones who journeyed with Jesus had to fight unbelief. The condition of little faith is one I have identified with over the years – having less faith than I should when I’ve seen God move the way He has in my life. Even still, the Lord has been so gracious and faithful. In that, I am humbled. For that, I am grateful.

Of you of little faith 

A tender, yet firm, rebuke from Jesus. Here, he reminds us that the ask of wavering trust in him is not always comfortable but is surely worth it. Blessed are those who believe and yet do not see. In each account where Jesus gently corrects the doubt and weariness in His disciples, there is a charge to remember the faithfulness of God, and in so doing, to return to faith in Him. So how can we remedy our little faith? By listening for His voice, and quieting all the others, by praying bold prayers that exemplify the mighty faith you have in God.

Oh you of little faith.

One by one, in each account, Jesus exchanges a wrong assumption about himself through holy encounters and stories of rescue. He doesn’t just tell his disciples to trust him blindly, or have faith in him because he said so. Instead, Jesus told His disciples who He was by showing them. He still does this for us. Wrapped up in the convicting, sobering, but ever so gentle and loving phrase oh you of little faith is a reminder to live in a way that screams “I trust God and His ways”. 

In this, I am brought to my knees. 

Why is it so easy for us to believe God’s goodness is too good to be true?

Why is it so hard for us to understand His holiness and perfection? To trust in it after embracing the reality that no one can fathom his understanding? 

Doubt can feel so easy sometimes, and faith so hard.
Even in all of God’s promise keeping, miracle working, and way making, we waver and doubt like waves tossed by the sea. Why else would scripture tell us not to fear 365 times? Often, we are more likely to talk ourselves into fear and worry than faith and trust. Even the disciples let doubt creep in, but Jesus was always quick to correct this. We would do well to slow down and draw near to Jesus in moments like that. Every oh you of little faith is a new opportunity to trust God more. Every do you trust me? Is a second chance to be renewed in our minds and transformed in our hearts to become more like Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.

Christ’s Invitation to Stand on Faith

To those preoccupied with urgent need for provision, Jesus says trust in me, oh you of little faith. 

To those afraid of the storms that arise, fearful of their own perishing, to them Jesus says look to me, oh you of little faith. 

To those stepping out, going against the grain, seeking to do the impossible, to them Jesus says do not waver; fix your eyes on me, oh you of little faith. 

To those afraid that God will not provide, to them Jesus says, do not doubt, oh you of little faith. 

Our God is the one who dresses the lilies in all their splendor, in whom the winds and the waves obey. He is the one who feeds thousands with but a few loaves of bread and who can walk on water. In Him, we can trust. In Him, we can have faith.

For those of us who may wrestle with little faith syndrome, it can feel hard sometimes to live in a way that shouts of the faithfulness and might of God. We say we believe that God is who He says He is, but when asked to respond, our hearts hesitate. For those of us with little faith, we allow anxious care, unnecessary fear, and doubts to take up more space than they deserve. We care far too much about what others think, and not enough of what God has to say instead. We allow fear to hold us back, and struggle to leave it all at the feet of Jesus where it belongs.

Hebrews 12 says, throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles so that we may run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. 

The antidote to anxious care and unnecessary fear isn’t just faith; it’s honesty, confession, repentance. It’s creating space for God to speak truth over our fear, so He can remind us that He is faithful to every word spoken.

Any time God has pointed out my little faith, it was always with tenderness and clarity. It has never been either/or, but both/and. He draws me near gently and lovingly, and rebukes the hesitation in me. So it was with fundraising. So it has been with so many other things in my life too. He is kind enough to show me again who He is, and make space for me to try again. Most of the time, we don’t just need to hear “do not be afraid”, but we need to be reminded of the sovereignty and might of our Lord. We need to linger a little bit longer in His presence so He can show us His glory.

Practicing Remembrance

If we called upon our memory of moments God has been faithful to us more often, I believe our fires would burn brighter for Him. We wouldn’t be afraid of aiming high and watching the Lord do what He does best. Calling upon the moments and situations where I have seen God move in my life and others’ has done wonders for me. Tethered to the vine, I desire to always be. But this takes work. It takes intentionality and time. Spending attentive time with Jesus takes sacrifice. Faith is a fight, but it’s well worth it.

We might still fall, we may still waver like Peter did, but I’m sure we would end up with far more stories of crazy ways we have seen God move if we looked back upon our history built with the one who goes before us and hems us in from behind.

Remembrance renews us and compels us to act. Forgetfulness keeps us stuck. Remembrance draws forth a desire to see more of God in our lives, never less.

When we allow God the space, He faithfully leads us into moments and experiences that can help us know Him deeper. These moments show us His glory, His might, His omnipotence. God can do anything, and while He loves to partner with us in His plan for restoring all things back unto Him, He remains faithful even when we’re faithless (AND when we set too low of expectations for how we might see Him move).

Have you ever heard that faith comes by hearing? I believe faith comes by knowing too. Trust is the fruit of intimacy with God. When we pray, He shows us His heart for this world and the ways we can be a part of the mission. We catch a glimpse of our Creator and why we were created. In God’s presence, we receive His love. We remember who He is. When we see God for who He is, it’s hard not to believe for more because there, in the quiet place, history is built, hearts are softened, and faith increases. When we ask Jesus to remind us of who He is, He never leaves us empty-handed. When we bring Him what little faith we have, He moves mountains. Not just the ones we see in front of us, but the ones in our hearts too, so that our faith might grow. He takes our worry and fears, and builds an altar in place of them. 

Great Faith

Great faith knows its Savior. 

Great faith knows the only One who can quiet the voice of fear. 

Great faith knows the One who can satisfy the aching longing in its heart. 

Great faith belongs to the one who looks beyond the natural, and believes that in the unseen, God is moving. Beyond what our naked eyes can see, something is stirring.

When all we have to offer God is ourselves, in our brokenness and flaws, Jesus still displays His power and supernatural love through us. He can work with those of little faith, but He can do greater things through those with greater faith.

For when He makes a promise, He keeps it. 

When He says He’s good, He always will be. 

When He says He’s heartbroken over something, He will continue to be until all things are made new. 

These are reasons to trust Him. His holiness is proof that we can and that He’s worthy of it. 

The difference between one of little faith and one of great faith is willingness. A simple yes is the only thing setting those with great faith apart. A devotion to God and a commitment to pushing forth in light of fear and worry. 

God longs to see those with bold faith rise up. So, here’s to new beginnings with more willing hearts. With more risk taking and ruthlessly trusting in the One who says He’ll make a way. Our God is the God of impossibilities and miracles. He can do anything. Here’s to the grace that meets us, the hands that hold us, and the voice that speaks truth over us.