“And the Lord said, ‘If you had faith like a grain of mustard seed . . .'”
{Luke 17:6a, ESV}

Theirs is a small ministry. Nothing flashy. Almost invisible. Some wouldn’t even consider it a real ministry.

And though my son is the one to whom they’re directing their time and energy, they’re preaching a new revelation to me:

The ministry of consistency birthed from obedient faith.

We require our children to earn their spending money, and our oldest son determined that waiting tables offered him the most flexibility during the school year. His outgoing personality and mannerly way would serve him (and customers) well.

It was the first week of his new job, and while he wasn’t exactly nervous, he was still learning the ropes. This day would be his first without a trainer. He had no way of predicting by the end of this shift something remarkable was going to happen.

Sometimes remarkable gifts arrive without fanfare, wrapped in obscurity.

We can’t even see them for what they are . . . until later.

The older lady seated in his section was alone. My son greeted her and learned others would be coming soon, a group of friends celebrating a birthday. While waiting, she invited conversation, and he explained it was his first day. I have little doubt he cranked up the charm — the boy was working for tips, after all.

Soon enough, the rest of her party arrived. Birthday celebrations should be special, so Thomas made sure to give them extra attention.

By the end of lunch, they had made a real connection, or at least as real a connection you can make over a 90-minute lunch at Cheddars.

She asked for his cell number.

“Sometimes I share encouraging texts,” she explained. He gave her his number figuring she would do no harm, but even more likely, he’d never hear from her again.

He was wrong.

Every morning for a year and a half, she and another of the Birthday Party Ladies have sent him a text. Without fail.

A ministry of encouragement to him; a ministry of consistency to me.

Sometimes it has been an inspiring quote or what appears to be an excerpt from a Bible study, but most days it’s Scripture. The texts are specifically to him, not part of group text as if they do this for every person they meet.

My son is a 21-year-old college junior, active in Greek life on his college campus. While I know the majority of his choices are wise and calculated, I’m not naive. College is a breeding ground for temptation, and it’s an oat-sowing season of life.

Our children provide motive to pray without ceasing. It’s enough to keep you on bended knee.

We can’t raise our children in a vacuum or on an island, insulated from the brokenness of our world or devoid of its allure. When they’re young, to some degree we can protect them from imminent dangers, but once they’re out of sight, we learn new ways to trust God with their welfare, and to trust that He loves them more than we ever could.

The ancient African proverb says it takes a village to raise a child, and our village has been the family, friends, church, and community who have invested time in my babies. We have been loved well.

Now that my children have grown up and moved out, our family is scattered. Practically speaking, that village we had no longer exists. But that doesn’t mean we no longer need a community to support and encourage us; we may need it now more than ever. I’ve prayed for my children to have good friends and mentors who speak wisdom and love into their lives when we can’t be around. If it were possible, I’d will hedges of protection and angels to surround them.

Sometimes angels look like two ladies sending text messages to a praying mama’s son. Their intentionality and actions have preached a sweet sermon over me, one that teaches that the grandest of gestures may be packaged in small, hidden acts of faithful service.

They have shown me that anyone — anyone — can have an effective ministry, using the little they have, offered in faith, as a blessing to others.

What has God already given me that I can use to encourage someone else? What can I offer in faith and obedience that might bear fruit in the life of another? Prayer? God’s Word? Kindness? Compassion? Mercy?

The Lord said, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed . . .” you could tell —

a tree to uproot and replant itself in the sea. {Luke 17:6}

a mountain to move and it would. {Matthew 17:20}

In the same passage in Matthew, Jesus concludes the metaphor with an unbelievable statement when He says, “Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Today, let’s remember that small seeds bear magnificent fruit. Let’s beg God for the wild, tiny faith that has the wisdom to recognize the remarkable gift in ordinary living. Let’s claim that wild, tiny faith, that makes possible the impossible.

Thanks to (in)courage for allowing me to give away some of my favorite pieces from DaySpring’s new Better Together Collection! There will be three winners so be sure to enter!
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