By the Thursday after the Third Sunday of Lent, we are well into what might be called the “ordinary middle” of the season.
Ash Wednesday is a distant memory. The heroic Lenten resolutions we made with great confidence have settled into something more modest — which, if we are honest, may be closer to the pace of actual human holiness.
In other words, Lent has become quietly realistic.
This is often the point in the season when we begin to notice something curious about the Christian life: the small things matter far more than we expected.
We tend to imagine that spiritual growth happens in dramatic moments — powerful prayers, life-changing insights, perhaps a moment of dazzling theological clarity while stirring soup on the stove.
But the Gospel frequently suggests something less dramatic and far more persistent.
The kingdom of God grows slowly.
Seeds. Yeast. Small acts of mercy. Quiet decisions to forgive. The daily choice to keep walking when enthusiasm has taken the afternoon off.
Jesus talks about these things constantly.
A mustard seed becomes a tree. A little yeast lifts an entire loaf. A cup of cold water offered in kindness carries eternal significance.
None of these things are particularly spectacular.
Which may explain why we sometimes overlook them.
We prefer the grand gesture. The sweeping act of faith. The sort of spiritual moment that could be described in an inspiring memoir or at the very least mentioned in a parish newsletter.
But Jesus keeps pointing in a different direction.
Notice the small things.
The quiet kindness you offered without thinking.
The patience you managed to summon in a difficult conversation.
The moment when you chose generosity over irritation.
These moments may feel ordinary.
In the economy of the kingdom, they are not.
By Thursday of Lent 3, it is entirely possible that your spiritual life feels less impressive than you hoped it might. You may not have experienced dazzling revelations or mystical visions.
But you may have done something far more important.
You kept going.
You prayed again.
You tried again.
You forgave again.
The small things are where grace does its finest work.
God is remarkably fond of mustard seeds.
So if today feels unremarkable — if Lent seems to be unfolding quietly rather than dramatically — do not underestimate what is happening.
The kingdom is growing.
Very likely in the places you almost missed.
Companion Prayer
Patient God,
You work through seeds
and small beginnings.
When we overlook the ordinary,
open our eyes.
Teach us to value
quiet kindness,
steady faithfulness,
and small acts of love.
Let your kingdom grow in us
in ways we may not even notice.
And remind us that nothing done in love
is ever small in your sight.
Amen.