Mustard Seed Faith

By Meghan Killingsworth

For 12 straight weeks in 2016, a small group of leaders met for prayer in a classroom of First United Methodist Church of Sanford, Florida.

Praying, of course, should be standard practice at churches. But this group found itself on a precipice: having been notified by the denomination that they were on the anticipated closure list, they were praying for a miracle. The Florida Conference of the United Methodist Church cut to the chase: merge, close or find some way to get to know your neighbors. They began to ask themselves, “If we closed tomorrow, who would notice? And who would miss us?”

This small, scrappy church had an advantage—albeit one not usually experienced as very advantageous. Innovation and change are so often considered terrifying moments. But the birth of something new didn’t seem so scary when death was the alternative.

As the congregation began to dream about a new future, they committed to a few things: if we do die, we’ll go out spending every last dollar and moment loving our neighborhood. And if we don’t, we’ll live trying to share God’s love with the place that God has planted us for over 100 years.

The parable of the mustard seed (see Matthew 13:31-32 and Luke 13:18-19) is a favorite among pastors. It might especially be a favorite among people trying to start something new. Preachers everywhere love to remind us that “God can take a small thing and turn it into a big thing.”

Well, sure, God can take small things and make them into anything God would like. But if that was Jesus’ primary point, why not an acorn that grows into a mighty oak? Or a date palm, prevalent in the Middle East?

If we read closely, the parable of the mustard seed is chaos! A guy throws a tiny seed into his garden, presumably filled with plants he wished to grow. Imagine him picking out the tomatoes he anticipates ripening in the summer sun, or dreaming of the fresh grapes plucked from the vine in September. Picture him tilling the soil, ensuring that pests don’t pick at his plants or steal his harvest.

And then, just as the seeds begin to grow, a tiny seed (one he probably forgot about) springs up, takes over the whole garden and then makes a home for the birds. Mustard! And a home for those pests? Sure, birds are nice, but they love tomato plants, and they’ll eat grapes right off the vine.

Jesus, are you saying that the kingdom of God is like a pesky plant that takes over what we nicely planned and permanently invites in all those we were trying to keep out? In the words of a beloved sitcom character from the ’90s, “How rude!”

For FUMC Sanford, we knew our first commitment was to the neighbors we actually have, not the neighbors we wished we had. For us, that means the friends who live in the park across the street, the crotchety neighbor who hates the way we’ve planted our bushes and the people who have been hurt by the church are all important.

Our friends at the School for Conversion (schoolforconversion.org) talk about making surprising friendships possible, something we’d have to pursue in our own community. As United Methodist Christians, our theological heritage is steeped in grace and the pursuit of holiness. One of those forms of grace is the idea of prevenient grace: the notion that God is already at work everywhere and always. We don’t “bring” the God of the universe anywhere, but we do get to look for God’s movement everywhere we are.

If it’s true that somewhere in all people is the beautiful image of God (Genesis 1:27), then our job is to look for God, on the move and in the faces of all we encounter. And because the lifelong pursuit of Wesleyan Christians is sanctification, we knew that to love our neighbors and to live in grace requires us to care about their bodies and lives, alongside caring about their souls.

But what is a small, poor, historic church to do when it can barely keep the lights on? In Moses’ exchange with God in the book of Exodus, Moses is found to be a rather reluctant servant of God.

“I’d rather not, God.”

“But I will be with you,” God replies.

“I’m not so good at speaking, Lord.”

“Who is it that gave human beings mouths?” God answers.

Finally, God says to Moses, “What is that in your hand?”

Moses is so sure of what he doesn’t have, he can’t see what he does have: a staff, a calling and the God of the universe. Of course, God uses Moses’ staff, among other things, to help Moses, the Egyptians and the Israelites see the Lord is the one at work.

How often are people of faith—people of faith—so consumed with seeing as the world sees: in deficiencies, deficits and pain points? How often are we as churches convinced that the fruitfulness of the gospel is somehow synonymous with having it all together?

Learning from an approach developed by John L. McKnight and John P. Kretzmann at the Institute for Policy Research at Northwestern University, the congregation in Sanford started doing an Assets Assessment. Assets Based Community Development (abcdinstitute.org) begins by asking what we do have, rather than what we don’t. FUMC Sanford began to understand that we had a few things:

A historical footprint in the city we were called to love. Since the congregation originated before the city was incorporated, we knew we had historical buy-in and leverage.

Unused space. Many churches these days have space that sits dormant (can we say, fruitless?) six days a week. We began to ask ourselves how God might be able to use our campus throughout the week, even if it wasn’t used for traditional church activities.

A desire to love our neighborhood. We knew we couldn’t afford to buy everyone a new car, and that we didn’t have the people power to start every mission that needed starting. But we knew our hearts might be open in new ways because of our renewed sense of commitment to Sanford.

A need to partner. Often, churches with big budgets and long membership rolls feel like they must lead, name, control, fund and manage all the “missions” they want to join. But the blessing of being small is that you can’t! Hallelujah, we can’t do it all! And so, we will have to depend on Jesus and our neighbors.

We began to learn from churches and networks that had dreamed about how to missionally use their space. We visited White Rock UMC in Dallas to learn about how they had dreamed with their neighbors. We read everything published by the Missional Wisdom Foundation (missionalwisdom.org) and learned from their community experiments. And, we started asking our neighbors about what they dreamed for our beloved town.

We came to discover that many people (inside and outside the church) had been called by God to things like sharing food with their neighbors (picnicproject.org) welcoming friends with varying abilities (kairosadventures.org) and developing healthy living programs for schools that can’t afford it (growhealthykids.org). The kingdom of God was already at hand, and we needed to be sure not to miss it! If God is already at work, how could we join in?

We also learned from these passionate founders and ministry leaders that the work is tiresome but the devil is in the details. Writing grants for nonprofits across the region (conundrumconsults.com) is hard, but rewarding. Fixing the internet or making sure the dumpster is emptied? That’s soul-depleting.

We began to create a collaborative space, now called The Neighborhood Co-Op (theneighborhoodcoop.org), for nonprofit and social enterprise groups seeking to do good in the city of Sanford. Organizations, from startups to multisite phases, pay a flat fee for the use of the space and commit to our shared values.

The church covers the utilities, maintenance, copier, internet and janitorial services and sends volunteers to support the varying missions now housed on our campus. Each organization is autonomous, but by virtue of sharing space and a commitment to our town, we have found that all of us (including the church) are able to do more together than we ever could have done apart.

When someone gets new grant dollars, we all get to celebrate with donuts. When the traveling choir of friends with varying abilities is developed, the church gets to host them first. When the world feels heavy and someone wants to throw in the towel, we get to remind each other that we’re not alone. The income from the Co-Op helps the church maintain the building, and the longevity of the church gives credence to organizations trying new ways to solve problems and love neighbors.

For far too long, we’ve measured the fruitfulness of churches by the size of the budget and the membership rolls. But for FUMC Sanford, we’ve seen the kingdom’s growth in its surprising, unruly blossoming in a garden we might have imagined differently. We’ve heard the Holy Spirit speak through partners who aren’t sure how they feel about church yet. And we’ve felt God’s presence in opening the door again to someone with a dream and a passion for caring.

Sure, worship might include congregants who snore through sermons because it’s their first safe place to rest. And serving might mean recognizing you have something to learn from your neighbors. But we’ve come to see surprising friendships, messy gardens and a God who will use what you have as a miraculous answer to prayer on the corner of 5th Street and Park Avenue.