by Martha Hagemann

I used to chase the big moments. The breakthroughs. The miracles. The kind of faith that split seas and moved mountains. But lately, I’ve been learning to see the sacredness in small things.

A warm cup of tea on a hard day. A verse that finds me before I go looking. A friend who texts, “I’m praying for you.” These are not dramatic. They don’t make headlines. But they carry the weight of grace.

I’ve come to believe that God is not only in the grand gestures. He is in the quiet kindness. The unnoticed obedience. The daily faithfulness that no one applauds but heaven sees.

There’s holiness in sweeping the floor. In writing one more page. In choosing hope when despair feels easier. These small acts are not insignificant. They are seeds. And God is the gardener.

This essay is a reminder that your life doesn’t have to be loud to be holy. That your faith doesn’t have to be flashy to be real. That your small offerings matter.

Because in the kingdom of God, loaves and fishes feed thousands. Mustard seeds move mountains. And the smallest yes can echo into eternity.

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Martha Hagemann is a writer from Karasburg, Namibia, whose work honors the quiet strength of faith, grace, and everyday resilience. Her essays reflect a deep trust in God’s presence in small moments and sacred spaces.