The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”
The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you …” [Luke 17:5-6].
A few years ago, in “P.C.” times (i.e., “pre-COVID”), a parishioner shared with her pastor that her adult daughter was going through a difficult time. The woman asked if the pastor would be willing to talk to the daughter and he quickly agreed. Prior to the meeting, the mother filled the pastor in a bit. Her son-in-law had, for the second time, been caught in an affair.
The young family also had financial difficulties. The husband and wife, both in their late thirties, were what you might call “underemployed.” Each had an office job—his involved some travel—but their combined salaries were barely enough to keep the household afloat. With two growing children, any “extras” had to be supplied by the grandparents. It hadn’t helped that the husband thought that he could keep his rendezvous secret if he and his paramour met (and often dined) in a relatively expensive Raleigh hotel. She’d discovered his “extra” expenses when her card was declined at the grocery store, and she began to check the charges.
The daughter met with her mother’s pastor several times. A plump woman, she had worried features and little confidence. She belonged, not to her mother’s church, but to another. She admitted to the pastor that she was too ashamed to talk with her own pastor. Near the end of her second session with her mother’s pastor, the woman blurted out, “If only I had more faith.” She continued that, with additional faith, perhaps her prayers to lose weight might be answered. Perhaps then she could secure a promotion in her employment. With the power of additional faith, perhaps she might be able to recapture the spirit that had brought the couple together in the first instance. She repeated, “If only I had more faith.”
As we come to the Gospel lesson appointed for this upcoming Sunday, Jesus’ disciples don’t have marital problems. Nor do they appear to have money issues; they’ve given up their property. They have little, if anything, in common with the young woman I just described. And yet, the disciples’ fervent plea is the same as hers. Unlike that of the woman, their tone is presumptuous. Turning to Jesus, they say, “Increase our faith!” [Luke 17:5, a portion of the Gospel reading for Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost—Luke 17:5-10—RCL, Year C].
When one reads Jesus’ response to their request (demand), one wonders if they haven’t irritated Him for, as noted above, Jesus tells them that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed, they could uproot a mulberry tree and “plant” it in the sea [Luke 17:6].
A few seconds later, I’ll bet at least one of the disciples thought to himself, “No, sir, it isn’t budging,”
Could Jesus actually be telling His disciples that they have no faith? They’ve cast their professions aside in order to follow Him. They’ve continued to walk with him and study at His feet after He’s reminded them that the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head—not much of a 401(k)! They’ve stuck with him when He’s predicted His own death; might their own demise follow soon thereafter? For people with no faith, they seem pretty committed.
And perhaps just when we think that Jesus may have dug Himself into a hole with his comment about mustard seed-sized faith, He seems to grab a shovel and keep digging with yet another uncomfortable, awkward statement. In this week’s Gospel lesson, Jesus goes on to ask his disciples:
Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, “Come here at once and take your place at the table?” Would you not rather say to him, “Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink?” Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, “We are worthless [sometimes translated “unworthy”] slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done! [Luke 17:7-10].
Ouch, did our Lord get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?
A couple of Lectionary cycles ago, I canvassed several friends about whether they had ever preached on this week’s Gospel reading—I never have. Only one in four had done so. The others said they tended to stick to this week’s Epistle reading from 2 Timothy [1:1-14]. “Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us” [2 Timothy 1:14]. That text seems much safer.
Could it be that we are missing Jesus’ point? Might His reaction to the disciples’ demand for more faith not so much be based upon his irritation or impatience with them, but rather on His feeling that His followers are concentrating on the wrong issue? Jesus is offering a different perspective, a perspective that doesn’t see faith as something that is quantifiable. All too many of us, faced with significant challenges, extreme hardship, sickness, or bewilderment can convince ourselves that if we could just somehow secure more faith, then we could weather the storm. We could work through the difficulty. We could climb the mountain. It disappoints many of us when Jesus tells us that faith doesn’t work that way.
I left you hanging back there with the story about the woman who felt that if she just had more faith she could mend her marriage, get a promotion, lose weight, and reclaim intimacy with her straying husband. My pastor friend—he happens to be the one in four who has preached on this text—told the woman that he had some bad news and some good news. Looking her in the eyes, he said (I’m paraphrasing):
Jesus is really good at meeting your needs, not so much in fulfilling your wants. Faith isn’t something that can be measured. It isn’t something that, if you just had twice as much, you’d be much better off. When many of us say we long for more faith, what we’re actually saying is that we long for more control. We think that more faith equals more power over our circumstances. Borrowing “logic” from the world around us, we think that a greater level of faith equates to a greater ability to handle our adversity on our terms. That’s the bad news. The good news is that the little bit of faith that we have is enough, so long as that faith is in the right person. That person is Jesus Christ.
You see, even a little bit of faith is gracious plenty if we’re willing to grant all authority to Jesus—the One who supplies the faith in the first place. If we give up the need to control the situation, if we abandon the desire to fix the problem on our terms, if we acknowledge “our place” as unworthy servants, allowing the risen Christ to dictate the fashion with which the adversity will be handled, then the mulberry bush can be launched into the sea. If instead, we treat faith as a commodity that can be assembled and grown, then instead of a growing faith, we’ll likely experience existential confinement as the roots of the mulberry tree fully intwine themselves around our lives. We’ll be confined not because of a lack of faith, but rather because of a lack of proper focus. We who follow Christ do not need any more power.
According to Mark’s Gospel [Chapter 16], “when the sabbath was over,” on that first Easter morning, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome determined that they would bring burial spices to the tomb that contained Jesus’ lifeless body. As they walked along the pathway that morning, they realized that they had a significant problem. Sharing their concern, they had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” [Mark 16:3].
Many of us might have said, “If we just had more faith, then God would give us the strength to move the rock to the side.” They said nothing; they just kept walking.
When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back [Mark 16:4].
Moving heavy stones, casting mulberry bushes into the sea, it only takes a little faith. Search your hearts, dear friends. You know that you already have plenty, as long as it is in Him, and not merely in you.
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