The request from the apostles is disarmingly simple: “Increase our faith.” Yet the response they receive is startling—vivid images and a story with a demanding master. At first hearing, the tone feels harsh. That is on purpose. Jesus leans on exaggeration to uncover an essential truth: the Christian life is not a part-time hobby. It is non-stop. It is all-consuming. It touches everything we do because it is about everything being made new in Christ.
Picture the two scenes he sets side by side. In one, the tiniest seed becomes strong enough to command what seems immovable. In the other, a servant finishes a long day only to keep serving without expecting applause. Both scenes push against our instincts. We prefer faith as a weekend boost, a spiritual vitamin. We like thanks, closure, a sense of completion. But discipleship does not clock out. It keeps moving because grace keeps moving—recreating hearts, homes, workplaces, and, ultimately, the whole of creation.
This changes everything. It changes how we start the day. When the coffee steams in your kitchen, that cup is not merely fuel; it becomes a small altar for thanksgiving. You praise the Lord’s goodness in something ordinary. Joy sneaks in. A simple ritual turns into a reminder: I belong to Christ before I belong to my busyness.
It changes how we work. A desk, a factory, a classroom—these are not stages for personal achievement or corporate loyalty. We work for God himself. We aim for competence and excellence not to secure identity but to offer love. Even the emails, the calls, the endless labor can be lifted up. When we are overlooked, we do not unravel. When we are praised, we do not live on it. Our reward is deeper than reputation; it is the new life that Christ is already planting within us.
It changes how we face trouble. Challenges appear—illness, family strain, bills, loneliness, the quiet ache we cannot name. We turn to the Lord in prayer and ask for guidance. Not once. But again and again. The point is not proving our strength but leaning into his. Faith as small as a seed is still faith, because its power is in the One who gives it. We do not muscle our way through; we depend on grace.
It changes our expectations. The parable’s master seems ungrateful because Jesus is stripping away the scoreboard. If we serve in order to be noticed, we will quit when the clapping stops. But if we serve because Christ is making all things new, we can keep going—quietly, steadily, even when nobody sees. The praise we crave will never satisfy like the communion he promises. The true “well done” is coming when Jesus returns and brings his work to completion. Until then, we live as people under construction, and so does the world.
So keep that short prayer close. Whisper it over your breakfast, under your breath at work, in the car, beside a hospital bed, before sleep: “Increase our faith.” Let it carry you into the next small act of love, the next unseen service, the next step in the long, beautiful work that never really stops.