Dirt & Desk: Mustard Faith App(lication)
Faith as a mustard seed. That’s such an overused phrase. “You MUST have FAITH!” Must. Have. Faith. Musthave Faith. Mustard Faith. What’s good having faith if you never plant it in the ground? And what’s good planting in the ground if you don’t cultivate it? And what’s good nurturing the seed if you don’t intend to eat it?
I’ve always had the faith seed. Toted it around like it was the best thing since sliced bread. But I kept it in my back pocket, where all the lint was. I never did anything with it.
Faith was meant to get messy. Dirty. Grimy. If your fingernails are still clean after purchasing some faith seeds, then you haven’t used faith yet. You’re just slinging it around in a shiny pouch of arrogance. You’re a fake gardener. I was a fake gardener. I never planted the damned seed. And it was damned because I cursed such a wonderful gift by suffocating it in a pocket of doubt.
Fake gardening doesn’t kill your faith. It keep it dormant. Forever. So how do you revive those potent little seeds?
You have to plant your seeds of faith. It’s got to go underneath your level of reality. Beneath the very ground you use as a foundation upon which stands everything that makes sense for you. And you haven’t fully planted Faith until you can no longer see those seeds.
Push it deep into the ground of surrealism. That might look like prayer, meditation, “Ohm”ing—anything that you can’t readily credit yourself for the outcome. Yep. It’s got to be spiritual. So hard work, blood, sweat and tears don’t apply here. The planting? Yes. The growing? Not no much.
A bit extreme? Well, think about it. When you have faith in someone, the only hard work and effort you can take credit for is the training, mentoring, guiding you’ve given that person. Beyond that, your blood, sweat and tears aren’t directly connected to their outcome. That’s for them to own. You can’t work for their success as much as you can’t yank a full-blown tree out of the ground. Your work can only go so far.
Not only must you plant it. You have to water those little suckers. Cultivation. You need to maintain the very seeds you can no longer see. You have to trust that they’re still underneath the soil and that the dirt trolls didn’t snatch them from the spot where you planted them.
Your seeds need sun. Can they see the sun? Nope. Can they feel the sun? Not at all. But the surrounding soil needs it just as much as your seed itself does. This reveals the need for community and enlightenment. Your seed is in the dark, but not entirely. It’s surrounded by other elements that needs something. And when they receive it, they pour into the seed.
Let It Go
You shoved it in the dirt. You’re dashing water on it. You’re letting the sunlight and the dirty community interact with your once-upon-a-time pristine faith seeds. Now you just let it go. Let it go, to let it grow. Your seeds need to brush shoulders with the lowly commoners and the grime of society. As a matter of fact.
When the tree emerges, it will be its lowly beginning that will keep it firmly rooted in the ground. And the deeper (or humbler) it gets, the more stable your faith tree will be. And you have nothing to do with that process. So it’s humbling for you too. Let Faith do its thing. Trust that everything will work out the way it should.
Here’s what truly separates the faith warriors from the fake gardeners. You now have this massive tree in your background. But you get turned up, excited and then arrogant about it. You bask in the glory of your success and patience and hard work—when your seeds did all of the growing!
Your pot of water doesn’t even compare to the regular rain that fell when you were too worried about getting your hair wet. Oh and the sun? Yeah. You can’t replicate that. The brightest LED bulbs are laughable.
And if arrogance hasn’t hit you, then it you being oblivious to the miracle dangling from the lowest branch. After your faith tree is full-blown. You thank God for the tree. But God is saying, “The tree isn’t just for shade, dummy! Go make some mustard!” You have to cut the very beauty you invested in. It’ll hurt, but it’s the only way faith releases the mustard inside.
Whether it’s being too self-aware or completely oblivious, there comes a moment when you have to stop glorifying the faith tree and start pulling it apart to release the faith mustard. Taste and see. Not stop and stare.
Level of Investment
So there. Faith has many phases.
- You either haven’t purchased it yet.
- You have it stuck in your back pocket.
- You have it stuck in the ground.
- You’re staring at it in your backyard.
- Or you’re eating it.
And you might have faith in one particular thing for whatever reason. But the faith pack comes with more than just one seed. Scatter all of them. If you feel led to do so, go after that Plan A with no Plan B.
But don’t skimp on your faith seeds. Pour all your resources into the ground. All of the seeds. Don’t hold back. In other words, real faith is a personal sacrifice. A true investment. If it hurts, then you’re probably on the right track. Don’t be sadistic. But don’t be comfortable either. Pour it all in.
Lastly…Forget about mustard seeds. It’s time to make Mustard Faith. If you still have seeds, you’re not doing anything yet. Get dirty and sacrifice.
I decided to purchase this new Desk publishing app, because I believe in John Saddington’s work. This isn’t a sales pitch and I’m not getting paid to do this (besides, my social traffic is nonexistent). And it’s also not me buying a shiny new toy to test out. It runs deeper than that. He created and finally released this software with everything riding on it. This has been in the works since 2002. 14 years.
Is it perfect? You bet it’s not. But it’s working. And it’s working beautifully. We just didn’t purchase an app. We invested in a journey with John. In a journey of Faith. We have faith this will work. We believe in him. And we’ve invested in him. Faith transcends belief.
I’m in a slightly similar situation. And what better way to fortify my faith by investing the little bit I have left into someone else who’s inspired me to do the same? This transcends writing. In all honesty, a real writer gets it done. On any platform. Period. Moleskine, Notes.app, Desk.pm, Byword, Mars Edit, Ai Writer—whatever. The sh*t gets done!
Investing in a new program while trying to figure out my own stuff is me stuffing that seed deep into the grimy abyss. I can no longer see it. But the water’s soaking in. And the sun is pouring out. And while I work, I wait. And while I wait, I work. And soon enough, a sprout will come. A golden contact, a monetization opportunity, or a random email telling me to keep going.
It’ll come. I believe it will. My seed packet is emptied out. They’re are all gone. Deep in the soil. And faith tastes better when it disappears for a while.