The Kingdom of Heaven
In today’s Gospel, Jesus compares the Kingdom of Heaven to a mustard seed. It is the smallest of all seeds and grows into a large bush where birds come and make their home.
My understanding of the Kingdom of God has changed over the years. I have spent most of my life just accepting the understanding that the Kingdom of Heaven is out there somewhere. As a little kid, it meant somewhere beyond the clouds. As I grew into adulthood, I admit I was unconcerned primarily about the Kingdom of God. I centered my energies around what the call of Jesus meant in my life, how to be faithful to my Catholic faith, and how to live my commitment as a religious woman. Age and being closer to the end of my life than its beginning have brought my prayer and contemplation to consideration the Kingdom of Heaven. I often ponder what comes next. What comes after the life I know now?
In this analogy, we discover our deepest yearning for God. The seed of the Kingdom of God was sown within us long before our birth. This seed, the embodiment of our longing to comprehend God, heaven, the resurrection of the body, angels, and saints, and life and death, is a shared experience. We all yearn for God. Like the seed, we send our roots deep into the earth, pushing up tender shoots until they break through the soil and bask in the sunlight.
It is the seed of God we speak of when we say we are born in the image and likeness of God. God’s image and likeness are neither earned nor deserved. They are a gift. The quest, the desire for the Kingdom of Heaven, has been planted in us since the beginning of time.
But just as the mustard seed does not grow without care and tending, neither does our quest for God and His Kingdom. The soil in which seeds are planted must be watered, fertilized, and weeded if a plant grows strong and faces the ravages of the weeds surrounding it and the harsh weather. The fragility is especially true when the seedling is young. But with time and care, the seed grows, becoming strong and spreading its branches so that the birds of the air might find a home in them.
So, too, we must nurture and care for the seed of God planted within us. It must be tended even before birth by the love and care of those surrounding us. After birth, the seed of God needs to be continually tended, watered, fertilized and pruned. As we grow, the primary responsibility for care shifts from others to our responsibility for ourselves and our faith growth. We follow this spiritual path until natural death, when we become fully one with God. Then we know the fullness of God. The legacy of our faith journey provides a blueprint. It gives hope, promise, and a place to rest for others on their journey.
It is crucial to remember that no matter how small and fragile we believe the seed of our faith is, it holds unimaginable potential. Our faith is a tender shoot that we care for, cultivate, and love to its fullness. And not unlike the seed, our faith will sometimes be surrounded by weeds and the ravages of life. But we protect it as best as possible and allow God to work with our efforts. If we allow it to be so, God will make up anything lacking in our faith. We will become a strong tree of faith and know total oneness with God. His seed started the journey, and God will honor the care we have given to His image and likeness planted long ago in us.
The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed planted in our soul until we are one with God for eternity. No matter our age, the miracle of the seed of God planted within us is that it is never too late to tend and care for the seed of faith. We start wherever we are and ask God to make up what is lacking. Who we are is always enough for God.
In God’s Unending Love,
Gwen
