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By Fr. Roy Cimagala
Chaplain
Center for Industrial Technology and Enterprise (CITE)
Talamban, Cebu City
Email: roycimagala@gmail.com
SOME people approach life the way toddlers approach an all-you-can-eat buffet: one gigantic plate, zero strategy, and complete confidence that nothing could possibly go wrong.
They announce world-changing plans before breakfast, only to discover by lunchtime that they cannot even keep a houseplant alive. Thankfully, Christ's parables of the mustard seed and the yeast (cfr. Mt 13,31-35) offer a gentler, wiser approach: start small. Very small. So small that your ego may need counseling.
The mustard seed does not demand to become a towering tree overnight. The yeast does not throw a dramatic press conference announcing its intention to inflate an entire bakery by noon. They simply do their quiet work. Meanwhile, humans are busy writing ten-year plans after watching one motivational video and purchasing expensive planners that will remain suspiciously blank after February.
There is profound wisdom in beginning with little things. Small beginnings build strong foundations, unlike castles constructed entirely from wishful thinking and inspirational quotes.
More importantly, the ordinary moments of daily life are precisely where God quietly waits for us. Scripture reminds us that God's will is our sanctification, not our successful audition for the role of "Most Impressive Person on Earth."
Starting small also keeps us from the dangerous sport of premature greatness. Many brilliant projects have collapsed because someone confused enthusiasm with competence. Patience grows best when watered daily by humble effort instead of flashy ambition. Even better, small beginnings gently force us to rely on God's providence instead of our own oversized confidence.
This means finding God in ordinary routines: washing dishes without composing a personal tragedy, answering emails without declaring war on your inbox, smiling at difficult people instead of secretly nominating them for exile.
Suddenly, these tiny actions become holy because they are no longer just our own efforts. They become opportunities to cooperate with God rather than starring in the one-person show called "Look What I Accomplished."
People often dream of performing spectacular acts of holiness. They imagine heroic sacrifices, dramatic miracles, or perhaps receiving heavenly applause after surviving an especially difficult committee meeting.
Yet true greatness usually arrives disguised as countless unnoticed acts of kindness, patience, honesty, and love. Heaven apparently has a soft spot for people who quietly do the right thing without demanding a trophy or at least a commemorative coffee mug.
Never underestimate the power of little things. Tiny acts of love accumulate like compound interest, except the dividends are eternal. Ignore them, however, and you may discover that you have mastered impressive speeches about faith while remaining spectacularly impatient with slow cashiers and family members who chew too loudly.
Christ himself offered the perfect performance review: whoever is faithful in little things will also be faithful in much. That sounds wonderfully simple until your greatest spiritual challenge turns out to be remaining charitable before your first cup of coffee. Apparently, sainthood begins much closer to the kitchen sink than to the spotlight.
Sanctity may indeed require heroic courage, perhaps even martyrdom for some. For most of us, however, heroism wears ordinary clothes. It means consistently choosing love when nobody notices, nobody applauds, and nobody posts it online. Hidden faithfulness can be remarkably heroic.
So, spend your day asking, "Lord, what should I do with this moment?" Whether facing exciting work, tedious chores, or endless waiting, invite Christ into every little task. The mustard seed never looked impressive on day one, but somehow it still managed to outgrow every oversized ego in the garden.
