Farming in the Dark | Trinity Sermons

Hello and welcome to this week's episode of Trinity

Sermons. This week we are continuing our teaching

series called Growing Season. And today we're

talking about what grows in the dark. After you've

planted that seed when it seems like nothing

is really happening, is there anything going

on? Is God still at work even during that time?

Today's reading is from the Gospel of Mark, chapter

Mark 4 · chapter mention

4. verses 26 to 29. He also said, then the head,

then the full kernel in the head. As soon as

the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it,

because the harvest has come. The word of the

Lord. We're doing this teaching series, which

we are calling Growing Season. And that is because,

really, the more that you read the Bible, the

more you realize that the Bible is actually kind

of written by farmers. It was written to farmers.

It was written through the worldview of farmers.

And in the Bible, it actually says that, you

know, God is like a farmer. God is like a shepherd.

God is like the owner of a vineyard. And we,

his people, are his feet. We are his flock. And

so the way we read the Bible and reading the

Bible through the lens of a farmer allows us

not just to better understand what God's word

is saying to us, but it actually points us all

toward the great farmer who is God. Now. I grew

up on this dairy farm. And of course, we don't

own this farm anymore. We sold it years ago.

But a few weeks ago, Alex and I had a chance

to go down and visit it again. And I thought

that as I went back to that farm, I was wondering,

oh, how am I going to feel when I walk on there?

I haven't been on there for like 15 or 20 years.

Would I feel kind of nostalgic? Would I say,

oh, I miss this feeling of home? Would I say,

oh, how I long for a city? simpler life. But

that's actually not what I felt at all when I

walked back onto that property. I was surprised

that the first feeling that hit me was this feeling

of like dread and slight relief. Because the

thing that struck me, the thing I remembered

most was just how much hard work farming was

in those days. living there. And my dad, he worked

hard. So hard. There is actually an old saying,

a farming expression, that a farmer works from

can to can't, which means that a farmer works

from the moment he can see from sunrise all through

till the moment that he can't see at sundown.

And that was definitely true of my dad. My dad

was up before the sun. He was out in the barn

milking cows while we were still sleeping in

our beds. And then by the time the end of the

night rolled around, it was long after sunset

by the time he got back into the house just in

enough time to sit down on the couch and fall

asleep while watching the nightly news. It felt

like he was always working. There were always

cows to milk. There were always crops to tend,

always fences to fix. There were always machinery

that needed repairing. It just never ended from

sunup to sundown, from can to can't. But, and

this is a very big but, every farmer eventually

learns that there are some things that hard work

just cannot do, right? You can prepare the soil.

You can plant the seed. You can fertilize. You

can spray. You can harvest the crop, but you

can't make the sunshine. You can't make the rainfall.

You can't make the seed grow. And so at some

point, every farmer reaches the limit of what

he can do. And it's not just farmers. It's not

just farmers. We also, whatever your job is,

we work hard. In our culture, we work hard at

our jobs. We work hard at our marriages. We work

hard with parenting. We're always working hard.

But eventually, we too run into situations where

there's just nothing more that we can do. You

can't force your business to grow. You can't.

You can try, but you can't make it happen. You

can't force a child to make wise choices. You

can't force your marriage to be healed. And often

when we run up against this reality that we can't

do these things, our reaction is actually to

try harder. Well, let me put in more time. Let

me put in more effort. Let me work harder. Let

me worry more. Maybe if I stay up later, maybe

if I work at it all night long, then I can keep

it going. Then I can get it going. But farming

teaches us something different. There comes a

point where effort ends. And trust begins. Eventually,

the farmer has to go to sleep. Eventually, the

field is left alone. And the seed disappears

underground. And in the dark of night, and in

the dark of the soil, and in the dark of the

winter season, we just have to trust that something

is happening, even if we can't control it. That's

why Jesus tells this strange little parable that

we heard in Mark chapter 4. It's got to be one

Mark 4 · chapter mention

of the shortest parables ever. And for that reason,

it's probably one that many of you never even

heard before. It's so easy to overlook. But it's

easy to remember. You can just go home and tell

your friends about it after church. It goes like

this. A farmer goes out, scatters seed on the

ground. And then he goes to bed. And he wakes

up. And he goes to bed. And he wakes up. And

the seed grows. But he doesn't understand how.

End of story, right? I find that a fascinating

little parable, but you might say, what is there

actually to learn from that parable? Well, there

actually is a very powerful and important lesson

in there for us today. The things that matter

most are often the things that we cannot control,

right? God's timing we cannot control. The work

of the Holy Spirit, we cannot control. The kingdom

of God, we cannot control. These things matter

so, so much to us. But these things are often

happening beneath the surface, beyond our sight,

and outside of our control. In the dark, in darkness,

where we cannot see. That's what I want to talk

about today. I want to talk to you today about

farming in the dark. I want to talk about the

darkness underground. I want to talk about the

darkness of night. And I want to talk about the

darkness of winter. We're asking the question,

what is God doing when we can't see what God

is doing? And the answer is, a whole lot can

happen in the dark. Now, I've given you some

little sermon notes here. I would encourage you

to follow along. I think there's lots here that

we need to learn. let's start with the darkness

of the soil. Jesus says, the kingdom of God is

like this. It's as if someone goes out and scatter

seed on the ground and he would sleep and rise

night and day and the seed would sprout and grow

and he does not know how. Now, short parable,

but really where is the action all taking place?

The action is all taking place underground. It's

taking place out of sight. It's taking place

beyond the farmer's control. If you were to go

into this farmer's field the next day and look

out over that field, you would see nothing that

indicated to you that anything was happening.

You would just see no evidence. You would see

no progress. You would see no results. You would

just see dirt. You would just see dirt. And that's

exactly what makes this parable so difficult

for us because we want visible growth. We want

to see that something has happened. We want immediate

results in our lives. We want the reassurance

that our efforts are actually paying off somehow.

But the kingdom of God refuses to work that way.

The kingdom of God grows underground. Before

it ever grows above ground for you to see something.

You see, when you plant a seed underground, do

you know the first thing it does? First thing

it does is not send up a shoot so everyone can

see something's happening. No. What's the first

thing it does? First thing it does is send down

a root, right? It sends down a root into the

darkness where no one can see it. And if a seed,

I think, were to send up a shoot before it sent

down a root, it probably wouldn't survive. No,

God always grows the root before he grows the

fruit. The hidden work comes first. The foundation

comes first, right? We want visible progress.

We want shoots and we want fruits. But God is

far more interested in our roots, our character,

our humility. Our trust, our growing faith, things

that nobody else can see. I think, you know,

sometimes we pray, God, you know, change my circumstances.

But God says, nah, right now, I just want to

change you. God is growing roots and roots take

time and they grow in the dark and no one applauds

and no one sees. You know, science actually tells

us. That when you plant a seed underground, something

quite fascinating happens. That seed coats, that

hard, rigid exterior, it absorbs water. And it

swells and it swells and it swells until finally

it cracks open. It breaks. The seed actually

looks like it's blowing up and destroying. And

that is actually one of the most important lessons

about growth that we can learn. Is that sometimes

growth in our life begins with some kind of a

breaking. Right? It's a loss of certainty. It's

a loss of control. Loss of a dream. Right? The

seed breaks. You break. Your life feels like

it's breaking and shattering. All of our certainties

get cracked. But that breaking is not a sign

of failure. It's often the beginning of growth.

And it looks like nothing is happening. Or even

worse, when it's breaking, it looks like everything

is falling apart. But growth is actually happening

in that moment. The farmer can't see it. We don't

see that from above, right? The seed doesn't

even understand it when it's happening to it.

But God is at work. And it is true that great

transformation often resembles death before it

resembles life. Which means this morning, if

you find yourself in an underground... right

now, if your prayers seem to be going unanswered,

if your growth seems to feel invisible, if everything

in your life seems to be breaking and cracking,

don't assume that God has stopped working, right?

The soil may be dark, but lots can happen in

the dark. Okay, but Jesus doesn't just teach

us about dark soil. He also teaches us about

dark nights. Listen to what Jesus says. He says,

the kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter

seed on the ground and would sleep and rise night

and day. Now, that detail seems a little unnecessary

to me, right? Why does Jesus need to tell us

that the farmer sleeps? Why not just tell us

that the seed grows? It's because Jesus, as always,

is teaching us something very important. Notice

what the farmer is not doing. The farmer is not

pacing anxiously across the edge of his field.

The farmer is not digging up the seed every morning

to look and see if it has started growing. The

farmer is not out at the field at 2 a .m. in

the morning with a flashlight saying, come on,

grow, grow, right? No, the farmer sleeps. And

that's remarkable because farmers are not lazy

people. My dad certainly wasn't a lazy person.

But even the hardest working farmer eventually

has to stop because there is nothing more that

can be done. And so he goes to bed. Not because

he doesn't care. Of course he cares. But he goes

to bed because he's already done everything that

he can do. The rest now is beyond his control.

Again, do you know what scientists tell us? That

most of a plant's actual growth takes place during

the night. During the day, the plant absorbs

all the energy from the sunlight, but then it's

during the night when the farmer is asleep that

that energy gets spent in elongating the stem

and deepening the root. Just hear that again.

The farmer is asleep when most of the growth

That is true, I think, spiritually as well. Some

of the most important growth in our lives happens

during night seasons, right? During the night

of grief, the night of your uncertainty, the

night of disappointment. The night when your

prayers just seem to be bouncing off the ceiling

above you. We tend to think, oh, growth. No,

growth happens during the bright and sunny moments,

the days of success. But God often grows us the

most in the night. And I think that's because,

you know, night forces us to stop working, forces

us to stop performing. Night strips away from

us the illusion of control and forces us to actually

trust God. And that leads to growth. Now, some

of you will say, well, sure, sure. Yeah, I might

not be able to work at night, but I can worry.

I can worry at night. And we might think that

somehow the more that we worry, it means the

more that we care. But the farmer does not stay

awake worrying either. Worrying about a seed

does not make it grow. Worrying about tomorrow

does not fix tomorrow. In fact, Jesus said something

like this elsewhere. He says, can any of you

add even a single hour to your life by worrying?

The answer is no. Worrying away our nights does

not make things grow. It actually stunts our

own growth. But rest. is an act of trust. Sleep

is a sign of faith. Rest says, God is still in

control while I sleep. God is still God even

when I'm asleep. God is still working when I

rest. God can carry what I can't. God can watch

over what I can't watch over. And God can grow

what I can't grow. Sleeping is not giving up

responsibility. It's giving up The illusion of

control, right? Sleeping is not abandoning the

field. Sleeping is actually entrusting the field

now to God. And I think that's why for some of

us, sleep is the most difficult spiritual discipline

of all because we believe we're the fixers, right?

We're the problem solvers. We're the saviors.

But eventually every disciple has to learn. That

Jesus already has that job. He's the fixer. He's

the problem solver. He's the savior and not us.

Some of you might know this, but there's a beautiful

prayer that's found in some Anglican prayer books.

And it's often prayed right before bedtime, right

before your head hits the pillow. It goes like

this. It is night after a long day. What has

been done has been done. What has not been done.

Has not been done. Let it be. Wouldn't it feel

good to pray that prayer at the end of a night?

Not because it's encouraging laziness, but because

it encourages us trust. Look, the day is over.

We worked hard, but now the work is finished.

Now sleep. Because the kingdom of God does not

depend on you staying awake. Or let's put this

like really simply. Sometimes the most spiritual

thing you can do is go to sleep. Not because

you've given up, but because you trust the one

who never sleeps. And while you sleep, a lot

can happen in the dark. So there's the darkness

of the soil. Lasts for a while. The darkness

of the night, of course, lasts till morning.

But sometimes we experience not just a dark moment,

but we experience a dark season. And every farmer

often knows better than us the reality of the

seasons. You heard my dad rattle off all the

things that happen in different seasons. There's

a season for planting, a season for growing,

a season for harvest, a season for rest. You

cannot harvest in April. You cannot plant in

January. You cannot force July to arrive in February.

The seasons... arrive in their own time. Now,

we understand that perfectly when it comes to

nature, but we struggle to accept seasons in

ourselves. We resist seasons of life. We want,

in our lives, perpetual summer, perpetual growth,

perpetual success. We want every season to feel

like it's harvest season. But God has not designed

things that way. That's not how he made nature.

And that's not how he makes discipleship either.

Right? The kingdom doesn't work that way. Farming

doesn't work that way. We can't work that way.

And that brings us to the season of winter. That's

the dark season. Right? The days are shorter.

But winter is not a mistake. It's part of the

design. I mean, I remember when I was growing

up on the farm, it always felt a little strange

in winter because now the fields that had been

full of life just a few months earlier suddenly

looked empty. The corn was gone. You know, the

wheat was gone. There was just stalks of corn

left sometimes. The wheat was gone. Even the

cows were gone. They couldn't go outside. They

had to be confined to the barn for the winter.

Everything looked brown and frozen and silent

and dead. Nothing seemed to be happening. And

yet every farmer knows that is not the whole

story because winter has a purpose on a farm.

Now, in the video, you heard my dad talk about

winter wheat, winter wheat. And in the video,

we spent a lot of time looking at wheat. Winter

wheat is planted in the fall. It sprouts. It

grows a little bit. It gets about like, you know,

this high. And then winter arrives. And the snow

comes and the cold comes and everything seems

to go dormant. You might say, oh shoot, I didn't

have that timed out very well. I've just killed

a whole field of wheat. But here's the fascinating

part. The wheat actually needs winter. There

is this process called vernalization. where the

wheat must experience a prolonged period of cold

before it can produce grain. Without that cold,

it won't mature properly. It won't form heads.

It won't produce the harvest that it was created

to produce. So just think about that for a moment.

The very thing that looks like it is stopping

growth is actually making future growth. The

cold is not an interruption to the process. The

cold is part of the process. Winter is not keeping

the wheat from becoming fruitful. Winter is preparing

the wheat to become fruitful. And some of us

today, we're going through a dark, dark winter

season. It could be a season of grief or disappointment

or uncertainty or of illness. Job loss, financial

struggle, whatever. And we often assume, oh gosh,

this season is a complete interruption. But God

sees those seasons as preparation because some

things only grow after a cold winter. Again,

God is not merely interested in changing your

circumstances. He's interested in changing you.

And so much of that transformation happens in

dark seasons like winter. Winter teaches us that

God is still working even when nothing seems

to be happening. It doesn't make sense in our

culture, which is obsessed with speed and instant

this and instant messages and instant that and

instant answers and instant results, but God's

slow. Often slow. He's seed slow. He's root slow.

He's winter slow. And winter is a powerful teacher

if we let it teach us. It teaches us hope. It

teaches us patience. It teaches us that what

appears to be inactivity may in fact be preparation

for the next season. Now, I put a little piece

of scripture on the back of your teaching notes

this morning, and I invite you to just take a

little look at it. This is a reading from the

book of Habakkuk, and I've called this the farmer's

creed, because what Habakkuk does in this reading

is he looks out at a field with no figs and no

grapes and no olives and no grain and no cattle

and no sheep. All the signs of success, all the

signs of success are gone. And Habakkuk says,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will be joyful

in God, my savior. And I would say this week

or this month or whenever you're wondering if

anything is growing in your life, I want you

to pull out this creed and read it again. And

that last line, the sovereign Lord is my strength.

That is what faith looks like in the dark season.

In the winter season. So we talked about the

dark soil. We talked about the dark night. Now

we've talked about the dark season. But all of

this points towards something even darker. The

dark day. The darkest day. And you might say,

Rob, come on. Daytime is the one time it's not

dark. Day isn't dark. But actually there was

a day. There was once a day of complete darkness,

a day when for a moment the sun refused to shine.

It was Good Friday. As Jesus was crucified, we're

told that from the sixth hour until the ninth

hour, darkness came over all the land. Darkness.

And not even just darkness in the sky. Think

about those disciples, right? Their hope had

turned to darkness. Everything they had given

their lives to now seemed to be collapsing. Jesus

had died. The tomb had sealed. The seed had been

planted. But really, I think probably the hardest

day was the next day. Saturday. What we sometimes

call Holy Saturday in the church calendar. Good

Friday gets a ton of attention. Easter Sunday,

of course, gets a ton of attention. But what

about that Saturday? Nothing happens, right?

There's no miracles. There's no angels. There's

no resurrection. There's just silence, right?

By all appearances on Saturday, the story is

over. Field is barren. The winter has won. The

seed is dead. But as we have been learning, the

deepest work of God often happens where we cannot

see it. The disciples could not see it. The religious

leaders could not see it. The Roman soldiers

could not see it. But God was working in the

darkness of that tomb where no one could see.

And on the third day, the plant sprung up as

Jesus rose from the dead. The resurrection is

God's answer to anyone who has ever wondered

whether something can grow in the dark. Resurrection

answers like, does hope grow in the dark? Yes,

it does. Does faith grow in the dark? Yes. Does

God work in the dark? Yes. Winter is not forever.

Darkness does not get the final word. And that

means that if you find yourself in a dark season

today, whether you feel forgotten or excluded

or disappointed or stuck, remember, buried seeds

become abundant harvests in the same God who

raised Jesus from the dead. Always. always, always

does the best of his work in the dark. And so

in closing, I thought I should just mention one

other little thing my dad said. I asked my dad,

Dad, how do you know the spring is coming? You

know, a farmer learns to read the signs. The

days get a little longer, the snow begins to

melt, the ground thaws out, tiny shoots maybe

begin to... These are small signs that spring

is on the way. And when we're going through a

dark period, often all we can focus on is the

darkness. But I wonder if maybe we should be

looking for signs of spring in our spiritual

lives too, right? What about the small things

that are happening for you? Are you a little

more patient than you were six months ago? That's

a sign of something growing. Is your prayer life

a little stronger than it was a year ago? That's

a sign. Do you have new compassion for other

people? Do you have a growing trust in God? Do

you have a renewed desire to worship? These are

all small signs that even in dark seasons, the

spring is coming. God does some of his best work

in the dark. So if you're living in dark soil,

you're going through a dark night or stuck in

a dark season, remember a lot can happen in the

dark. Keep scattering your seed. Keep... Keep

worshiping, keep trusting, and maybe tonight,

get some sleep. Because as the farmer sleeps,

God works. The seed grows, and one day the harvest

comes. Thanks be to God. Amen. Thanks for tuning

in to this week's episode of Trinity Sermons.

This sermon was recorded at Trinity Church Streetsville

in Mississauga, Ontario on June 21st, 2026.