I used to dream of doing great things as a follower of Jesus—maybe even changing the world. It’s honestly pretty embarrassing, looking back on it, to realize how little I grasped the world’s complexity or the depth of my own weakness. I remember actually thinking that my least favorite teaching of Jesus (be honest—you have one too) was his parable describing God’s kingdom like a woman working yeast into dough (Matthew 13:33). Ugh. I wanted revolution, darn it, not mundane baking metaphors.
I suppose it’s a stage that some of us go through, flush with a blend of new faith and excess self-importance. Life has a way of exposing our error. We go out into the world and learn how small we really are. We fail a few times. We experience being wrong. We discover that even when we’re right, other people aren’t always all that eager to be changed by us. We go to some funerals and slowly start to suspect that the sun will rise and set the same after we are gone. The towers we erect will crumble. The monsters we fight off will return. God’s work in the world will continue whether we personally participate or spend the rest of our life eating Fruit Loops in bed.
Once you’ve experienced this rude awakening to your cosmic smallness, Jesus’ parable about the yeast begins to hit differently. A speck of yeast is just so tiny. You wouldn’t notice it stuck to your sock or at the bottom of your coffee. It’s as small in the scope of a vast ball of dough as we have learned ourselves to be in the world. It’s so easy to overlook, it’s practically invisible. Yet somehow a few near-invisible specks cause the whole loaf around them to rise.
Perhaps our estimation of our power is both too great and far too little. None of us is the Baker or even the loaf; we are nothing but a speck. But this speck, activated in its identity, its integrity, has an influence vastly disproportionate to its size. This effect is exponentially increased when it operates with others.
Wherever the yeast goes, the world begins to move, to expand. Things grow fuller, wider, softer. They stretch toward life, toward purpose. They become more themselves. They rise subtly toward God. No one watching would say, “Look at what that speck of yeast is doing!” Yet in some mysterious way, the presence of the yeast provides the catalyst for system-wide transformation.
All of us, whatever time in history or whatever community we live in, exist within some larger loaf in which God has a vested interest. What an amazing thought that the smallest specks, in the right place and time and condition, can have a catalytic effect. Our impact doesn’t have to be traceable. In fact, it generally won’t be. There will rarely be any visibility, let alone glory or credit. But if the loaf is so much bigger and more complicated than we once believed, so are the rippling impacts of yeast’s smallest specks. Where a follower of Jesus, filled with his Spirit, goes, things inevitably start rising.
Things are rising, friend. Things are rising around you. It’s not a pipe dream or a hope or self-important fantasy. This is simply what yeast does. It is not even a matter of doing as much as of being. Yeast, being yeast, ignites change by its presence. You, remaining in Jesus, you, attached to the Vine, carry rising power with you wherever you go. It’s in your reborn DNA. It’s in every exhalation of the Spirit-breath within you. It’s the gift of God, not an outcome of personal striving.
The world says “Dream bigger!” Jesus says, “Dare to dream smaller! God’s kingdom grows from hidden specks faithfully being what they are.”
