Pastor Jacob Singleton's Installation Service

Sunday Worship - FPC LaGrange - May 31st, 2026

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Bring you greetings this morning from your Presbyterian siblings in Northeast Georgia Presbytery and from the congregation that I serve as an associate pastor in Buford, Georgia. It's an honor to be here with you today to celebrate this moment in the life of your congregation and in the life of one of my dear friends, Jacob. One of my earliest gardening lessons took place during a work day at my home church down in St. Mary's. One of my favorite people from my childhood patiently explained to me about the common weed known as the dollar weed. And more importantly, she showed me how it wasn't enough to just pluck the stem above the ground when weeding. And if you could, hook your finger around the rhizome below the surface and pull that up. That is the only way to successfully eradicate the dollar weed from a flower bed. And it's a particularly pernicious plant. It grows easily in hot and humid conditions. Each stalk has one or two minuscule flowers that bear an abundance of even tinier seed. If conditions in a lawn or a garden are right, it will quickly form a lush and large mat of vegetation that's nearly impossible to get rid of. I share that because we have very little, if any, context for the mustard seed. At most, we may know that the second most popular condiment in the United States is derived in some way from the mustard seed. Or we may have some vague recollection from our high school history class about the horrors of dreaded mustard gas. But I doubt any of us, and I include myself in this, could confidently identify a mustard plant in the wild or even in our own garden. When Jesus speaks in our scripture today, it's easy to gloss over the little details, even the tiniest of details, because we get the gist of what he's saying. The mustard seed is small, but if it's allowed to grow, it becomes something more, something exponentially bigger. The same could be said for the grain at the beginning of the passage. Out of a small seed comes the stalk, then the head, then the full grain. All from this tiny speck of potential. And if that's all we get out of this passage, that's good. It's great even. This is something we can work with. This is something we can maybe even confidently share with a friend or a neighbor. Something we might use to plant our own tiny seeds, our own tiny specks of potential in others, and see what happens to let God and the Holy Spirit work. But there's something more to this, something that we miss. We who inexplicably have never seen a mustard plant, we miss why Jesus chose this seed, this plant, as the object of his parable. To any farmer in Christ's audience, the choice of mustard would have been puzzling or deceptively simple. The kingdom of God and mustard weeds simply don't belong in the same sentence. Mustard is indeed an herb with medicinal properties and one that's useful for flavoring and preserving food. The mustard bush, though, is a garden pest. No one would sow it on purpose. It grows all too readily on its own, and once it appears, it takes over the field. Even though it had its uses, no gardener in ancient Israel worth their salt would have been caught with this noxious weed growing in the confines of a carefully maintained garden. In a lot of ways, Christ is sharing something with his audience that we simply can't grasp as it's presented. But it's almost like Jesus is saying the kingdom of God is like the dollar weed. It is pernicious, invasive. It's difficult to eradicate, and in some ways it is automatic or inevitable. The kingdom of God is coming, and you can try to stop it, you can try to control it, you can even try to root it out, but good luck. There's also a contradiction in Christ's parable that's very easy to miss if you aren't paying attention. Jesus says that when the mustard seed grows up into a plant, it becomes the greatest of all shrubs. The philosophical underpinnings of our faith tell us that God has to be greater than the greatest thing that we can imagine. And yet here's Jesus telling us that God's kingdom, the work that God is about in the world, is like the greatest shrub. It's as if Jesus is saying that the kingdom of God is like the fastest tortoise or the gentlest sandpaper or the coldest summer night. Because no matter how great the greatest shrub is, it's something that we can comprehend. It's something that we can cultivate in our own lives, in our own gardens. It isn't insubstantial, it maybe even dominates our view. And so, even if the kingdom of God operates on this grand and cosmic scale, there's space in your life for the work of the kingdom. Most folks would stop there. The kingdom of God spreads inexorably, no matter what you or the powers of this world might try to do to stop it. And it can spread in your life. You can plant it in the hearts and souls of the folks around you, and you might even do so without intending to. It is infectious under the right conditions. This kingdom is deeply personal and global at the same time. But if we stop there, we ignore what I think is the most important part of this parable. We ignore the question, why? Why is the kingdom of God like the mustard plant? Why is it like the greatest shrub? Why does it spread so readily, overcoming almost every impediment placed before it? Jesus tells us. It's right there in the parable, plain as day, so the birds of the air can make nest in its shade. The kingdom of God spreads like a wildfire so that it can be a refuge. The kingdom of God spreads uncontrollably into your life so that you can be a safe haven for God's children. Which brings us to today, to this sacred moment in your life, Jacob, and into the communal life of FPC Lagrange. As you step into this new call together, just as the mustard seed grows in unexpected ways, so too does God's call on our lives, often taking root where we least expect it and blossoming into something far greater than we could have imagined. Jacob and I didn't begin as friends. We began on opposite sides of the line. In seminary, we played flag football against each other. And I will tell you, I have never before or since seen anyone with shiftier hips in the pocket than Jacob. I spent most of those games in the rare moments when I got close to him reaching for a flag that was no longer there. And then in a turn I never saw coming, Jacob landed in the same town that my brother lives in. And when they were building their habitat house, Jacob was one of the hands that helped to raise it. And two years ago, we found ourselves on the same side again at Credo together, in that rare week when the church gives its pastors permission to be cared for instead of doing the caring. None of those days knew about the others, and just as those scattered meetings planted the seeds of a friendship we couldn't foresee, so too does God plant moments of connection and growth in ways that unfold over time. A wiser theologian than myself once said that when we enter the kingdom of God, we will find our best moments in this life reflected there. And I hope that when I get there, somewhere in it I'll find a house that Jacob helped to build with the door standing open. Jacob, today we witness you stepping forward into a role that in many ways you've already been living. Like the sower scattering seeds, you've been planting, tending, and nurturing the faith of those around you throughout your ministry journey. And now God has planted you here in this congregation to continue that sacred work. A call to ministry isn't always clear. Just as we don't always know how the seeds we scatter will grow, but this is the beauty of the kingdom of God. God works in and through us, often in ways we don't immediately see. Ministry can very often feel like waiting for seeds to sprout. Some take time and others surprise us with their sudden growth. And still others flourish long after we've tended them. As Jacob steps into this call, I also want to encourage each of you to consider your own role in this journey. Just as the mustard seed can't grow in isolation, neither can the work of the church rest solely on one or two people. The flourishing of this congregation depends on each of you. Your prayers, your presence, your willingness to sow seeds of faith alongside your pastors. God has brought Jacob to this place, but it's together as a community rooted in Christ that you will nurture that growth, that you will provide refuge for one another, that you will bear witness to God's kingdom in the world. May you offer your support with open hearts and hands, trusting that in this partnership, God will bring forth a harvest beyond what any of us can imagine. In the name of the one who created, redeems, and sustains us all. Amen.