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Big Faith is Often Revealed in Small, Quiet Steps

  • Writer: Leah  Cast
    Leah Cast
  • Aug 16
  • 6 min read

Updated: Sep 26

God Delights in Our Progress Toward His Glory


By Leah Cast


When my husband and I chose the hybrid school path for our kids (a model that blends traditional classroom learning with homeschooling), it felt more like an act of surrender than a master plan. For me, the professional world had become a familiar rhythm, a place where I felt comfortable and capable. But homeschooling? That was uncharted territory where I felt completely unqualified. I didn’t see myself as the kind of “homeschool mom” I had pictured, and before this season of my life, it was never something I imagined doing. But deep down I sensed God leading me in a new direction, and I chose to trust that quiet nudge.  


Though this decision wasn't flashy or earth-shaking, over the years, I have come to see that it was, and continues to be, deeply spiritual. In an assignment where I cannot succeed by plowing through, I’ve learned to appreciate the small steps and slow work that reveal God’s wisdom.



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Big faith is often revealed in small, quiet steps


When I was picking out desks, painting chalkboard walls, and stocking our school room with every supply a child could need, I didn’t anticipate how much the classroom I was building for my children would become a spiritual classroom for me. Truthfully, in the beginning the slow pace felt frustrating. I often found myself pushing through lessons just to check off the day’s tasks, missing the joy tucked into each moment. I was so focused on completion that I failed to appreciate progress and presence. I wasn't basking in the learning with grace and curiosity, I was sprinting – rushing past the very lessons God was trying to teach me. What I thought was homeschooling quickly became heart-schooling. The classroom wasn’t just shaping my children’s minds; it was shaping my spirit, too


Education, by nature, is a slow and steady journey. Children thrive through repetition, rest, and incremental growth. Mastery doesn’t happen overnight; it’s built gradually, layer by layer, through consistent exposure and reinforcement. A child might struggle with a concept one day, only to grasp it weeks later after quiet persistence and review. This rhythm of learning mirrors the way our brains are designed: not for instant downloads of knowledge, but for gradual understanding. God, in His profound wisdom, created us to learn in steps, not leaps – each small effort building toward deeper comprehension.


Faith often grows the same way. We don’t wake up one morning with unwavering trust or perfect peace. Instead, it’s built through daily choices: quiet prayers whispered in tired moments, small acts of obedience when no one is watching, and the steady practice of showing up. Just as my children have learned to read one sound at a time, I’m continually learning to walk with God one step at a time. And often, it’s in the repetition and seemingly uneventful days that the deepest roots of faith and transformation begin to take hold.


There have been days when the vision felt far away, when the lesson didn’t stick, the tears came easily, and the grind felt heavier than the grace. But even then, the Lord has been training me to look for Him in the details. He is a God of grand purpose, yes, but also of quiet process. The small steps matter. The mundane moments matter. And the vision He’s given – for our children, for our home, for my own heart – is being shaped in the faithful inches of everyday life.


"He is a God of grand purpose, yes, but also of quiet process."

Do not despise the day of small things 


The revelation of sacred smallness will unfold in our lives when we make an exchange: when we surrender our limited perspective for God's eternal lens. When we choose to believe that even the smallest acts of faithfulness matter deeply to Him. When we join Him in rejoicing, not only in the finished work, but in the courage it takes to begin – and begin again.


“For who has despised the day of small things?” This question, spoken by an angel to the prophet Zechariah, was meant to encourage Zerubbabel as he faced the enormous task of leading God’s people in rebuilding the temple in Jerusalem. It was a gentle reminder that God values the minor steps and progressive work of his people. Zechariah 4:8-10 shows that the Lord rejoices when we remain faithful, when we dare to lay the foundation and press on, even in the face of discouragement.


Perhaps He rejoices because He knows small steps lead to something far greater: His glory revealed not just through us, but within us. After returning from Babylonian exile, Zerubbabel faced deep ruins and heavy responsibility. His strength likely felt miniscule compared to the task ahead. Yet the Lord did not ask for human might or power. Instead, He offered something better: His Spirit. A quiet, steady supply. A presence that turns mountains into plains and beginnings into miracles.


God was not simply leading his people to rebuild the temple. He was inviting them into a deeper trust. He wanted them (and us!) to know that even the smallest acts of faithfulness are seen, cherished and used for His great purposes. That the courage of taking small steps in obedience to him, is holy. What feels insignificant in our hands can be multiplied in His. For it is in the humble, the overlooked, the ordinary, and the quiet beginnings that God often does His most extraordinary work. 


"The revelation of sacred smallness will unfold in our lives when we make an exchange: when we surrender our limited perspective for God's eternal lens."


Empowered by grace  


Sometimes the tasks we’re entrusted with don’t feel nearly as sacred as rebuilding God’s temple. When we’re scrubbing dishes, folding laundry or guiding our kids through hours of homework, it’s easy to lose sight of the spiritual weight of faithful stewardship. Even reading Zechariah 4 can feel distant or disconnected from our everyday lives. But in those ordinary moments, I encourage you: remember the olive trees. 


In Zechariah’s vision, he sees a golden lampstand with a bowl on top, seven lamps fed by seven channels, and two olive trees standing on either side. It is unusual imagery, yet rich with light and provision. When Zechariah asks about the olive trees and the branches that drip oil into the golden pipes, the angel reveals they represent “the two anointed ones who stand beside the Lord of all the earth.”


The olive trees illustrate how God invites his people into divine partnership, where His Spirit flows through willing hearts to fulfill His holy purposes. The lampstand shines, not because of human motivation, but because of a continual flow of oil from a heavenly source. The anointed ones in the vision (likely representing Zerubbabel and Joshua) stand as vessels through whom God’s Spirit moves, underscoring that true fruitfulness comes by relying on His Spirit. 


In verse 7, the angel proclaimed that Zerubbabel would “bring forth the capstone with shouts of ‘Grace, grace to it!’” He would indeed finish the task, yet he would recognize it as a product of divine grace. When a work is accomplished through human strength or effort, we’re tempted to claim the credit. But when it’s carried out by the ongoing empowerment of the Spirit in the midst of our weaknesses, it becomes a testimony to grace and a reflection of God’s glory. 


In our own lives, Zechariah's vision helps us recall: we are not the source of the oil. We are branches, invited to abide. It requires daily dependence on the Spirit to receive the grace needed to fulfill our callings. The Spirit supplies what we need, moment by moment, as we stand in quiet dependence beside the Lord.


This invitation to abide is echoed beautifully in the words of Jesus. In John 15:4–5, He says: 


“Abide in me, and I in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it remains connected to the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. The one who remains in me, and I in him, will bear much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”



Leah Cast is a wife to the love of her life (Dustin), mother of three, and the award-winning author of Transplant and Prayer Mode. She serves faithfully in local ministry in Houston, Texas.

 
 
 

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