The blessings of Jesus Christ extend even to those who do not give much thought to Jesus Christ at all—those who are (so it is said) “as free as a bird.” That is my reading of the parable of the mustard seed, in which Jesus says (according to Matthew 13:31-32):
The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the least of all the seeds; but when it is grown it is greater than the herbs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches.
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus made the point that God provides for the birds of the air—taking care of them though they don’t seek or notice this provision. God loves not just human beings, but also the smallest bird (Matthew 6:26). Now, in the parable above, we learn that the kingdom of God starts as something even tinier than a bird. Indeed, it starts as a mustard seed, a seed that is tiny alongside other seeds. But just like the mustard seed, the kingdom of God flourishes.
Mustard grew wild in Jesus’ time, a ragged bush that was regarded more as a weed than as a crop. Certainly it did not grow in cultivated rows planned by men. Like this bush, the kingdom of God advances in unpredictable ways. It grows “greater than the herbs.”
But there is something else, a further stage. The parable offers another striking detail. This flourishing spice that is greater than the herbs goes on and “becomes a tree.” In nature, a mustard seed will never produce a tree, yet this mustard seed does. The very nature of the plant transforms, the plant making a (literally) supernatural change. Through this change, it becomes something different than the wildly flourishing spice. Now, it is an organism strong enough, stable enough, and tall enough to be a comfort and a shelter to the birds of the sky.
Oswald Chambers wrote, “The final stage in the life of faith is attainment of character.” That word, character, offers the sense of a reserve of strength great enough that some of it can be offered to others. Character implies stability, the stability of being rooted, just like a mature tree.
By contrast, to be unrooted, like a bird, is not to be free. Not really. Birds can fly, but their flight is a physically demanding effort that the birds must perform in order to find safety and food. Birds also sing, but many of the songs you hear through your window are actually bullying assertions of territory. Smaller birds are hectored by bigger birds. To be any bird except the very largest is to live a life circumscribed by fear. It is in the very midst of this flying and crying that we are called to serve.
Specifically, those who have heard the call of Christ in their lives understand that it is indeed a call—a call to play a role, to continue the work that Jesus began. We aspire to provide the branches, somehow—stable perches for those among us who might otherwise be lost in the sky. We aspire to be the tree.
The reason to do this is not because we expect anything in return from the birds. We do so instead because we have been invited to love as Jesus loved. He was God come into the world. He was God come to serve. The Lord on earth was simultaneously humble and tall, just like the tree. And his life and love both continue to advance for as long as the forest continues.
The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the least of all the seeds; but when it is grown it is greater than the herbs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches.
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus made the point that God provides for the birds of the air—taking care of them though they don’t seek or notice this provision. God loves not just human beings, but also the smallest bird (Matthew 6:26). Now, in the parable above, we learn that the kingdom of God starts as something even tinier than a bird. Indeed, it starts as a mustard seed, a seed that is tiny alongside other seeds. But just like the mustard seed, the kingdom of God flourishes.
Mustard grew wild in Jesus’ time, a ragged bush that was regarded more as a weed than as a crop. Certainly it did not grow in cultivated rows planned by men. Like this bush, the kingdom of God advances in unpredictable ways. It grows “greater than the herbs.”
But there is something else, a further stage. The parable offers another striking detail. This flourishing spice that is greater than the herbs goes on and “becomes a tree.” In nature, a mustard seed will never produce a tree, yet this mustard seed does. The very nature of the plant transforms, the plant making a (literally) supernatural change. Through this change, it becomes something different than the wildly flourishing spice. Now, it is an organism strong enough, stable enough, and tall enough to be a comfort and a shelter to the birds of the sky.
Oswald Chambers wrote, “The final stage in the life of faith is attainment of character.” That word, character, offers the sense of a reserve of strength great enough that some of it can be offered to others. Character implies stability, the stability of being rooted, just like a mature tree.
By contrast, to be unrooted, like a bird, is not to be free. Not really. Birds can fly, but their flight is a physically demanding effort that the birds must perform in order to find safety and food. Birds also sing, but many of the songs you hear through your window are actually bullying assertions of territory. Smaller birds are hectored by bigger birds. To be any bird except the very largest is to live a life circumscribed by fear. It is in the very midst of this flying and crying that we are called to serve.
Specifically, those who have heard the call of Christ in their lives understand that it is indeed a call—a call to play a role, to continue the work that Jesus began. We aspire to provide the branches, somehow—stable perches for those among us who might otherwise be lost in the sky. We aspire to be the tree.
The reason to do this is not because we expect anything in return from the birds. We do so instead because we have been invited to love as Jesus loved. He was God come into the world. He was God come to serve. The Lord on earth was simultaneously humble and tall, just like the tree. And his life and love both continue to advance for as long as the forest continues.
