The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 13:31-33,44-52 - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr
July 26,
2026 – Matthew 13:31-33,44-52
Have you ever looked back over your life and realized that
the most important thing wasn't hidden because it was far away? It was hidden
because it looked too ordinary. The teacher who believed in you. The neighbor
who prayed for you. The quiet invitation you received to come to church. The
conversation you almost skipped. Looking back, you realize God had been at work
long before you recognized it. The kingdom hadn't suddenly arrived. It had been
there all along.
Dorothy Lange was a photographer who, in 1936, took a
month-long trip documenting migratory farm labor during the Great Depression. While
traveling through California, she came upon a pea-pickers’ camp. She drove past
the camp, but something made her turn around. Inside the camp, she found thousands
of people living in poverty. Dorothy was drawn to a makeshift tent where she
found a tired woman with her children. Over the next ten minutes, she took
seven pictures of the 32-year-old woman with her children, each one getting
closer than the previous. One of the best shots became one of the most
influential photographs in American history. Known simply as Migrant Mother,
it was a picture of a mother, Florence Owens Thompson, resting her chin on her
hand, her face etched with worry, while two of her seven children buried their
faces in her shoulders.
When the picture was published, the nation finally saw what
had been there all along. Relief supplies were rushed to the camp, and the picture
awakened people to the suffering they had not noticed. The family hadn’t
suddenly become poor. Their suffering hadn’t suddenly begun. Their needs hadn’t
suddenly appeared. They had been there all along. What changed was that someone
finally saw them.
I wonder if that's what Jesus is trying to teach us in
today's Gospel. Think about the images Jesus gives us: a tiny seed hidden
beneath the soil, yeast hidden in dough, treasure buried in a field, a pearl
hidden among countless others, and a net hidden beneath the surface of the sea.
Do you see the pattern? Barbara Brown Taylor points out something easy to miss.
She writes, "The striking thing about all of these images is their
essential hiddenness.” The kingdom “is
not something readily apparent to the eye but something that must be searched
for, something just below the surface of things waiting there to be discovered
and claimed."[1]
She’s right. Every image Jesus gives us begins with something hidden. Notice
the difference. Not absent. Hidden. The seed is hidden beneath the soil. The
yeast disappears into the dough. The treasure lies buried in a field. The pearl
is hidden among numerous others. Even the net lies beneath the surface of the
sea until it is drawn in. The kingdom isn’t missing; it’s present, quietly at
work beneath the surface of ordinary life. The kingdom of God is already
there—but not everyone recognizes it. The ability to recognize the kingdom is a
gift of God’s grace. We learn to see because Christ opens our eyes.
When Jesus began proclaiming the kingdom of God, many expected
great power, armies, and political victory over the Roman Empire. They expected
to see unmistakable signs. But instead, Jesus pointed them to tiny seeds,
yeast, buried treasure, and a merchant.
What if the greatest obstacle to experiencing God’s kingdom
isn’t that God is difficult to find? What if it’s that we always look for the
wrong things? We look for God in the spectacular. We look for miracles. We
yearn for the mountain-top experience. We ache for the dramatic answer to
prayer and overnight transformation. Instead, Jesus points us to dirt, bread,
merchants, and fishing nets. Is God already at work in the ordinary places
we’ve stopped noticing?
So, how do we learn to see what is hidden? The treasure
wasn't lying on the surface. Someone had to dig. The kingdom doesn't reveal
itself to people who merely glance across the field. It is discovered by those
willing to look beneath the surface, to pay attention, to keep searching. That
kind of seeing doesn’t happen accidentally. It takes time. It takes prayer. It
takes paying attention. It takes learning to notice God’s presence in ordinary
moments instead of constantly chasing extraordinary ones.
But what happens once we find it? Notice something
beautiful. The man doesn’t sell everything because he has to. He sells
everything “in his joy.” Once he realizes the treasure’s value, giving up
everything else no longer feels like a sacrifice. It feels like the obvious
choice. N.T. Wright writes, “Understanding without action is sterile; action
without understanding is exhausting and useless.”[2] In other words, it isn’t
enough to admire the treasure. Once you recognize its worth, your life begins
to revolve around it. If we’ve truly discovered the kingdom, our lives will
begin to reflect its value.
Dorothy Lange didn’t create the suffering in that camp. She
simply learned to see what had been there all along. Jesus says the kingdom is
like that. God isn’t absent. God is already at work. Hidden in ordinary acts of
kindness. Hidden in forgiveness. Hidden in quiet faithfulness. Hidden in bread
and wine. Hidden in the people sitting beside you this morning. The question
isn’t whether God’s kingdom is here. Jesus says it is. The question is whether
we have eyes to see it – and once we do, whether we will joyfully order our
lives around it. Amen.
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