There is something wonderfully hopeful about summer gardens.
Every year we bury tiny little seeds in the ground with what can only be described as astonishing optimism. We place something no larger than a peppercorn into the soil, cover it with dirt, add a splash of water, and then somehow expect tomatoes large enough to require two hands and zucchini substantial enough to qualify as blunt instruments.
Gardeners are people of extraordinary faith.
Of course, this is also the season when every weed in creation hears the starting pistol before anything useful does. If dandelions could be converted into an Olympic sport, Southern Ontario would sweep the medals.
Still, gardens teach us something important. The biggest changes often begin with things so small they are easy to overlook.
That seems to be one of God’s favourite ways of working.
We often imagine that changing the world requires enormous resources, celebrity status, or at least a committee with matching polo shirts and an impressive logo. Yet the Gospel consistently points in another direction. Jesus speaks about mustard seeds, yeast, cups of cold water, ordinary people, and quiet acts of kindness. Heaven seems remarkably comfortable beginning with very little.
Perhaps that is why I love parish life.
Week after week I watch people quietly changing lives without attracting much attention. Someone prepares coffee. Someone sings in the choir. Someone visits a neighbour. Someone makes a casserole. Someone teaches children. Someone prays faithfully every morning before anyone else is awake. None of these things make the evening news, but they somehow help build the Kingdom of God.
This Sunday at Christ Church we welcome a special guest preacher who serves as the physician at the school in Haiti that our parish supports. It is always good to hear stories of lives being transformed in another part of God’s world.
Mission reminds us that the Church has always been bigger than our own neighbourhood.
Sometimes the Spirit invites us to serve just down the street. Sometimes that invitation stretches across oceans. Neither is more important than the other. Love simply goes wherever it is needed.
The remarkable thing is that the same Gospel is at work in both places.
A child receives an education because faithful people cared enough to help.
A lonely neighbour discovers friendship because someone knocked on the door.
A struggling family receives groceries.
A refugee finds welcome.
A teenager hears, perhaps for the very first time, that they are deeply loved by God.
A senior receives a phone call that turns an ordinary afternoon into one filled with hope.
One act rarely changes the entire world.
But it almost always changes someone’s world.
And that has always been how God works.
After thirty-three years of ordained ministry, I have learned that ministry is less like setting off fireworks and more like planting forests. You may never see every tree reach full height. Some of the people you encourage today will quietly bless others decades from now. Grace has a wonderfully long memory.
Stephen Leacock might have observed that if Anglicans ever attempted to measure mission by the number of committee meetings required, the Kingdom would certainly arrive behind schedule. Fortunately, God appears to have developed an alternative strategy involving generous people armed with casseroles, prayer books, coffee urns, and surprisingly persistent hope.
It is a splendid system.
Ordinary Time reminds us that the Christian life is mostly made up of ordinary days. We mow lawns, water gardens, barbecue hamburgers, wave to neighbours, and occasionally lose our reading glasses while they are sitting comfortably on top of our heads.
Yet even in these ordinary moments, God is quietly at work.
Every smile.
Every prayer.
Every act of generosity.
Every mission project.
Every encouraging word.
Every dollar shared.
Every hour volunteered.
Every child loved.
Every stranger welcomed.
None of it is wasted.
Summer has a way of slowing us down enough to notice that the world changes much the same way gardens grow—not all at once, but steadily, faithfully, almost invisibly, until one day we look around and realize something beautiful has appeared.
So plant a few seeds this week.
Some may grow in your own backyard.
Some may grow in another country.
Some may grow in a human heart.
All of them belong to God.
And that, I think, is the most joyful harvest of all.
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Companion Prayer
Loving God,
Thank you for the countless ways you invite us to join in your work of changing the world. Give us generous hearts to serve our neighbours, whether they live next door or on the other side of the globe. Bless those who dedicate their lives to healing, teaching, and sharing hope, especially those serving through the ministry we support in Haiti.
Help us never to underestimate the power of small acts of kindness. May every word we speak, every hand we offer, and every gift we share become seeds of your Kingdom, growing into a harvest of compassion, justice, and joy.
As we enjoy the gifts of this summer season, keep our hearts open to the people you place in our path, and remind us that no act of love is ever too small when it is offered in your name.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.