He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”

He told them still another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds[a] of flour until it worked all through the dough.”

- Matthew 13:31-33

Jesus says the Kingdom is like a mustard seed and like yeast. Both start small, both look unimpressive, and both work on a timeline that doesn’t match our impatience. The Kingdom often begins as something you can barely name, a cautious “maybe,” a tiny prayer, a fragile step, but it grows into something with real presence. And it grows for a purpose. Not just “bigger,” but shelter. Branches where others can rest.

Yeast, meanwhile, is the change you can’t track while it’s happening. It disappears into the dough and quietly works through the whole batch. That’s how God often reshapes us. With a slow, deep transformation that eventually shows up in steadiness, humility, repentance, mercy.

So don’t despise small beginnings. And don’t panic in slow seasons. The Kingdom is already here, and not yet finished like living in a house mid-renovation.

Keep trusting the builder, keep showing up, and ask simply: “Jesus, plant your Kingdom in me.”

Listening to the words of the King

Parables are given to make us wise — to shape how we live, to train our character, to form us spiritually. This parable gives us the message of the kingdom so that we might hear, respond, and be fruitful. “Hearing” is central to this parable. In the language Jesus was telling this story, the word translated to hear also means to obey. That is no coincidence.

It’s possible to be physically present, religiously active, and spiritually closed. You can come on Sunday. You can hear sermons. You can read Scripture and still not really hear. Not because the message is unclear — but because the heart is guarded. We fear that listening too hard will draw our hearts to places we don’t want to go.

The crowd would have known there was meaning beneath the surface of what they heard but exactly what Jesus meant would not have been obvious The key turning point is verse 10: “The disciples came to him and asked, ‘Why do you speak to the people in parables?’” “Disciples” here does not mean only the Twelve. Anyone who wanted could come closer and ask. This is not a closed group. This is about attitude.

Those who come and ask are given more. Those who stay at a distance hear the stories — but do not really listen.

Jesus says: “Whoever has will be given more… whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.” These two groups are self-selected.

This is not about intellectual ability. It is about receptivity.

They are not smarter.
They are not more moral.
They are not more religious

They are not more deserving.

They are simply willing.

Willing to listen.
Willing to be taught.
Willing to admit they don’t fully understand.

When people responded by seeking Jesus and wanting to understand more, he turned towards them and invited them to come even closer. When people stayed superficial, no further explanation was given. Not because Jesus wanted to hide — but because lack of receptivity prevented further progress. These parables are the King graciously telling us what the kingdom is really like.

While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and sinners came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Then John’s disciples came and asked him, “How is it that we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered, “How can the guests of the bridegroom mourn while he is with them? The time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; then they will fast.

“No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch will pull away from the garment, making the tear worse. Neither do people pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.”
- Matthew 9:10-17

Human beings are deeply wired to want to stay separate from the things that we fear might make us dirty. In our modern world, we think in biological terms about infection. In the ancient world, the wrong kind of people could 'pollute' you. That's why some groups didn't like it when Jesus sat down to eat with tax collectors and sinners. When people complained, Jesus responded with the image of new wine in old wineskins. It's a simple message—the old cannot contain the new. Old frameworks could not contain the inbreaking Kingdom of God - in fact, it was bursting out of the boundaries that people would want to place on it.

The Pharisees and John’s disciples were sincere, committed people. Their movements sought holiness, repentance, and faithfulness to God. But they were still waiting—waiting for renewal, for restoration, for God to act. What they failed to see was that the waiting was over. The bridegroom had arrived. God was restoring his people, not through stricter boundaries or deeper separation, but through mercy, healing, and presence. Jesus’ holiness worked differently. Instead of avoiding the sick, he became their doctor. Instead of guarding purity by distance, he restored people just by drawing near to them.

Where do we struggle to make space for what God is doing now? Are there habits, identities, or ways of seeing ourselves that no longer stretch? Perhaps we sense the tension—the feeling that we can’t cling to what’s familiar and fully receive Jesus at the same time. The good news is this: there is nothing we can do to heal ourselves, but there is someone who has come to do what we cannot. Jesus is the healer. He is the new wine. He offers the Kingdom freely and waits for our response.