I come from an agricultural background, and as a farmer, I grew many crops—including canola. It always amazed me, and still does, how such a massive plant can come from just one tiny seed.
The seed is similar to that of a mustard seed. On average, a canola seed is approximately 1.75 mm in diameter—roughly 1/16 of an inch. When planting canola, you only need to place the seed just beneath the soil’s surface.
Once planted, it doesn’t take long for the sun’s rays to warm the ground. Hidden just below the surface, beyond the view of the outside world, the warmth affects the moisture and rich nutrients surrounding the seed. The seed doesn’t choose to respond—it simply reacts. It warms naturally in response to its environment.
In very little time, the seed undergoes a transformation. Something miraculous begins to happen inside. The seed is growing.
Soon, that inner growth can no longer be contained. The seed experiences a kind of trauma as its protective coat splits apart. From its center, roots burst forth—seeking moisture and nutrients. At this stage, the plant begins to strengthen, developing the ability to resist harmful bacteria.
It’s important to note that the seed and its roots will never fully understand the sun’s impact on its growth. The seed is simply aware of the warmth.
The roots continue to grow, spreading in every direction. Depending on the hardness of the soil, they may reach depths of one to two meters (about three to six and a half feet) as they stretch in search of nourishment. (Amazingly, the root’s span is more than a thousand times the size of the seed.) At every stage of growth, the roots keep pressing deeper and spreading wider.
If you were to dig up the seed at this stage, you’d hardly recognize it. The seed coat would be just a hollow shell of its former self. Your eye would be drawn instead to a fragile sprout, stretching not downward but upward—toward the source of the warmth. Toward the sun.
As you continue to watch, the soil begins to bulge and eventually crack as the shoot pushes upward, moving slabs of soil aside—two tender, deep-green leaves emerge, reaching for the sun and the open air. But the growth doesn’t stop there. The fragile shoot grows stronger, able to absorb more and more life-giving energy.
As the plant matures, it engages in a process called photosynthesis. It takes in sunlight, absorbs carbon dioxide and water, and releases oxygen, which impacts every other living thing, including me, the onlooker. This isn’t a strategic plan on the plant’s part. It’s simply what happens when it grows.
At full maturity, the plant displays bright yellow flowers along its branches, visible even from a distance. I’ve seen canola plants reach nearly two meters (roughly six feet) high. That’s more than a thousand times the diameter of the original seed. Some stalks grow up to 38 mm (roughly an inch and a half) thick, more than twenty times the seed’s diameter. It’s astonishing to think about.
Eventually, the flowers give way to pods filled with tiny seeds. A single plant can produce hundreds of seeds.
If you were to dig down near the mature plant and those growing nearby, you’d notice how the roots intertwine, seeking nourishment together—a community in growth.
And yet it all began with one tiny seed.
Did the seed have a strategic plan to be six feet tall? To be seen? To be noticed? No. Its only aim was to reach for the sun while sending roots deep.
Have you ever puzzled over Jesus’ words in Matthew?
Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.
—Matthew 17:20 (NIV)
Contextually, a mountain was considered a stronghold, a strategic military position.
I’ve seen canola shoots break through chunks of hard, dry soil—slabs many times the thickness and weight of the seed itself. To that tiny seed, it must feel like a mountain.
Yes, it’s true that if I hold the seed of faith in my hand, I have faith. Others might even admire the seed and commend me for it. But the seed was never meant to be admired. It was meant to be planted in my soul.
So often, we fixate on moving the mountain and forget the seed.
Yet the seed of faith draws us to Him. Draws us to the greatest commandment. Draws us to love.
Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?’
Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.
—Matthew 22:36–37 (NIV)
As I continue to reach toward Him—straining to comprehend the depth of His love for me—the seed of my faith grows.
What is He asking you to do? That seemingly impossible thing?
Faith doesn’t make things easy. It makes them possible.
Consider this with me: What if WE are the mountain?