The Mystery of Growth
a sermon based on Mark 4:26-34,
by Rev. Rick Thompson

     The farmer plants a crop.  The gardener plants a garden.  They fertilize, cultivate, worry, and wait.  They cannot know the outcome.  There are too many uncertainties: heat, frost, too much rain, too little rain, storms, insects and pests, animals, and weeds—all can affect the harvest.  Ultimately, the one who plants can only hope the seed will produce a full and abundant crop.

     It’s out of their hands; the farmer, the gardener, wait for the mystery of growth.

     Parents give birth to a child.  They do a fine job of providing nurture: they feed her, cuddle her, and rock her as a baby.  Later, they play with her and read to her.  They provide her food and clothing and a warm, safe place to live.  They see to it that she gets to school, and they encourage her to participate in extra-curricular activities—and support her when she does. They teach her about Jesus, and bring her to worship, and expect her to participate in the life of the church.  They do all they can to raise a healthy and happy daughter—but they cannot be certain they will succeed.

     The outcome is out of their hands; in spite of all they’ve done, she will have to make her own choices.  Mom and Dad can only hope that she will experience the mystery of growth.

     Sometimes the parents are disappointed.  Sometimes the farmer and gardener are disappointed.  They can give 110% effort, but still the outcome may not be what they expected.

     So it goes in life.  Try as we might, we cannot control some things.  We cannot control the process of growth.  It is a mystery; we leave the results to God.

     That’s how it is with raising crops in garden or field.  That’s how it is with parenting.  That’s how it is with many things.

     And so, Jesus reminds us today, that’s how it is with the reign of God; it’s growth cannot be programmed, controlled, or predicted.  But the rule of God WILL grow and produce an abundant harvest!

     It starts small, Jesus teaches.  A farmer scatters some seed, goes to sleep, watches and waits, and the seed, mysteriously, becomes a full-grown productive plant!  Or, a tiny mustard seed takes root.  At first it grows slowly; but then, it seems, almost overnight it becomes a tall, impressive shrub up to 15 feet high.

     Such is the mystery of growth—the growth of seeds planted in the ground, the growth of a child nurtured by the love of parents—and the growth of God’s rule, planted here on earth.

     It starts so small: a wandering rabbi—Jesus—calls apart a group of misfits, trains them, and sends them out to do what they’ve been taught; they often let him down.  The rabbi dies, and his followers are disheartened.  It seems like such a small and ineffective beginning.  A rag-tag group of disciples?  A crucified teacher?  Discouraged, grief-stricken students?  How could it possibly amount to anything?  How could it possibly make a difference?

     God has gone into hiding, it seems.  Just as a tiny seed lies dormant in the ground, so Jesus lay in his tomb.  And if God is around, if God is present, if God is at work—well, it surely isn’t very obvious what God is up to, is it!

     But the seed emerges and produces a plant, and Jesus emerges from the tomb, full of life!  Jesus arises from the sleep of death!  In his resurrection, God comes out of hiding!  The mystery is revealed: God IS, after all, still in the business of producing life and growth!  Jesus makes it clear how God works: where there seems to be only death, God gives life; when we wonder if God is doing ANYTHING, God is persistently at work to produce an abundant crop!

     From small beginnings come surprising results.  That’s the mystery of growth.

     There will be results; that’s the assurance Jesus gives us.  That’s the assurance we are given in his death and resurrection.

     Now, on the surface, the gospel doesn’t seem terribly effective.  That was true in New Testament times, and it’s just as true today.

     The first Christians walked an incredibly challenging road.  The twelve disciples were not the elite of society; they were peasants and outcasts, as likely to be joked about as listened to.  There was hostility to contend with: the hostility of their Jewish ancestors and neighbors, and the hostility of a Roman government which didn’t like talk of freedom and liberation.  There was the scandal of differences within the church.  And, then, there was the greatest scandal of all: the church had the audacity to claim that its leader, who had been shamefully crucified, was alive again and was the Ruler and Lord of all creation!

     Isn’t that astounding…incredible?

     And it’s no different in our day.

     We still worship the same crucified Lord, and many still find that notion outlandish.  20% of the world’s people claim faith in Jesus, but 80% don’t.  The church still must endure its share of scandal and division, and still, in many places, finds itself in a hostile setting.  More and more that’s true in our case. 

     The average age of someone sitting in a pew in a mainline church is 10 years older than the average age of our society.  What does that say about growth?

     For over 30 years in this country, the mainline church has been losing members.  Can this be called growth?

     In the 1950’s and 60’s, many churches like ours flourished; now these same churches struggle.  Is this growth?

     Now, Jesus prepares us for disappointment. 

     Did you notice something in this story?  Yes, the mustard seed grows incredibly!  It is sometimes said that on those hot, sticky summer nights back in Iowa, one can hear the corn grow overnight.  The mustard seed grew like that in Jesus’ time.

     But what does it grow into?  A tall, majesticevergreen?  A strong, firm, hearty hardwood tree, or a shade-giving cottonwood?  A lush grove of aspen, producing those brilliant patches of gold on the mountainsides in the fall?

     Well, not exactly.  It grows into a mighty mustard…bush.  10-12 feet tall on average, sometimes 15-20, the mustard seed grows not into a tree, but a shrub.

     Not all that one might dream and wish for, but more than we might imagine when looking at the tiny seed.

     That’s the mystery of growth: from small beginnings, there are impressive results; not always all we might hope for, but impressive just the same.

     From the tiny seed of the gospel, sown in a minor outpost of the mighty Roman Empire, rooted in, of all things, a death and resurrection, there has grown a movement that has lasted twenty centuries.  From that little seed, there has grown a movement that has outlasted scandals, setbacks, persecution, and adversity.   From that tiny beginning, there have grown lasting, significant, life-changing, world-shaking results!

     This is the mystery of growth.

     The good news is this: there is always, always, always reason to live with hope. 

     After all, didn’t Jesus die and rise again in triumph over sin and death and fear and despair?  Hasn’t the gospel of the Lord provided a foundation for countless lives through the centuries?  Hasn’t God been faithful to God’s promises?

     Yes, there is ALWAYS reason for hope!  The seed may not grow as abundantly as we wish, but it DOES grow!

     And it doesn’t always take much to plant the seed.

     On this Father’s Day, I think of the way my Dad has planted seed.  He hasn’t done anything flashy or spectacular with his life.  He’s never been noticed by the media, and there will not be a best-selling biography of his life written some day.  But his love has been a steady and reliable presence in our family’s life.  He is not highly-educated, but his common sense and problem-solving skills have saved the day numerous times.  He has never done anything with a flourish, but in one small act of kindness and compassion after another—forgiving an error of my youth, sacrificing time and money for his family’s sake and the education of his children, offering a word of praise and encouragement—Dad has guided and taught me.  His faith is not of the loud and splashy variety, but he has lived with his Lord and his church steadily, quietly, and consistently.  That’s my Dad.  He has planted in his own quiet way the small seeds of faith and love, and I’m certain he has wondered if they would ever bear fruit, and now, we trust, there is a harvest of some sort.

     The smallest acts of caring and kindness, of love and faith, can plant the seed of the gospel.  It might be a ride given to someone in need.  It might be a hammer or paintbrush lifted to help a family or service organization needing a boost.  It could be a kind word, or a thoughtful card, or a heartfelt prayer.

     From the smallest of seeds can come surprising growth!

     That’s how God works in the world.  Steadily, persistently, patiently, through the surprising death and resurrection of Jesus.

     That’s how God works.  To outward appearances, there might not seem to be much growth.  Instead of a majestic tree, the gospel may produce a common, modest shrub.  There will be setbacks and discouragements, to be sure.  It will require patienct, hope, trust, and a willingness to change on the part of the church.  We can’t know the future of our lives, or the future of our church. Those things are in God’s hands.

     But we can know this: the gospel of Jesus Christ WILL produce growth! 

     In God’s own time and God’s own mysterious way, God is at work to bring about growth.

     That’s God’s promise.

     And we can count on God!