Brothers and sisters, peace to you on this Lord’s Day.
The mystery of God’s kingdom, revealed in the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, turns everything upside down. There’s an old joke that captures this reversal: A man prayed, “Lord, since you consider riches as worthless as dung, could you give me just a little dung?” The Lord replied, “Since I count a thousand years as one day, just wait one more day.” You see? In God’s economy, riches become rubbish, and millennia become moments. Everything gets flipped.
So I challenge every seeker here: If you believe in Jesus, he will completely revalue your life. And I challenge every believer: If you truly believe the gospel, is it actively reshaping your values and priorities? May the Lord use these three parables to help us grasp this kingdom mystery. As the gospel turns our world upside down, may we embrace its radical reassessment of our lives and our world.
The Hidden Truth in Three Parables
These three parables are like different facets of the same diamond. Each reflects a unique light, and together they reveal one glorious truth—the mystery of God’s kingdom that Christ wants us to see. Just like the parable of the sower, Jesus told these stories to the crowds but explained them privately to his disciples. Again, he clarified why he spoke in parables, then interpreted the parable of the wheat and the weeds in detail—explaining the Son of Man’s role, the enemy’s identity, the meaning of the seeds, why they grow together, and the ultimate separation. Jesus left no room for doubt.
We’ll examine these parables collectively, focusing on their shared themes. First, we’ll identify key patterns that reveal the kingdom’s mystery. Second, we’ll draw two kingdom principles from these common threads. Finally, I’ll suggest two applications for our lives.
Pattern 1: The Kingdom of Heaven Unfolds Gradually
Did you notice what all three parables have in common? Each compares God’s kingdom to something that develops over time. The wheat and weeds grow together—that takes seasons. The mustard seed starts tiny before becoming a shelter—that takes years. And the woman mixing yeast into three measures of flour? That’s about 60 pounds of dough. Anyone who’s baked knows that doesn’t happen quickly!
These stories reveal a crucial truth: God’s kingdom operates on his timetable, not ours. It’s never instantaneous—not what we’d call “overnight success.” This slow work raises hard questions: Why does God seem silent? Why doesn’t he intervene? Like the frustrated servant asking, “Shouldn’t we weed the field now?” we often demand immediate action.
But here’s what we must understand: when God chooses silence, that silence speaks. His silence is itself a revelation.
Consider Peter, who after thirty years of following Jesus faced mockers saying, “Where is the promise of his coming?” (2 Peter 3:4). In other words: Didn’t Jesus say he was coming back? Why hasn’t anything changed? Isn’t Rome still in power? Aren’t corrupt officials still in control?
Peter’s response echoes the parable’s master: “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you” (2 Peter 3:9). What we call delay is actually God’s mercy, because he does not wish “that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” After all, “with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day” (2 Peter 3:8).
Pattern 2: The Kingdom of Heaven Overlaps with This World
In all three parables, we see the kingdom not as something separate, but as working within and alongside the world’s imperfections. Take the yeast in the dough: you can stare at it for minutes and see no visible change. Even hour by hour, the difference seems negligible. Rising dough and flat dough look nearly identical at any given moment. This overlapping reality can test our patience.
Every Christian knows how frustrating this can be—whether it’s watching a friend’s slow spiritual growth or praying for justice that never seems to come.
I remember counseling a couple where the wife complained about her husband’s lack of improvement. When I reminded her how far he’d come in three years, she nodded in agreement—but then added, “Yet yesterday he was back to his old self!”
It is frustrating to live in this overlapping reality. But here’s a sobering thought: if God answered your prayer for justice in one situation today, wouldn’t he need to bring justice to every situation? When we cry, “This world is so unfair!” are we truly ready for perfect justice? The uncomfortable truth is, most of us aren’t. In fact, if God instituted complete justice this very moment across all creation, how many of us would make it home tonight?
Pattern 3: The Kingdom of Heaven Involves Waiting
All three parables show us the same reality: waiting is at the very heart of the Christian life. It’s a basic characteristic that flows from trusting in Jesus and believing the gospel. Waiting isn’t a small part of our Faith. It’s a defining feature of Faith.
Many Christian women, especially those hoping for marriage, know the book Lady in Waiting. But waiting isn’t just about marriage. The Church, redeemed by the blood of Christ, is described as a bride waiting for her bridegroom. That’s not just an individual longing—it’s a corporate reality. In that sense, we all are “the lady in waiting.” We wait for the fruit to ripen. We wait for sin to be revealed. We wait for God to bring transformation. And we wait for his final judgment.
In this overlapping, mixed reality, waiting is not easy. It often feels like struggle. Especially in the parable of the wheat and the weeds, we see that waiting doesn’t happen in a peaceful, passive way. It happens amid spiritual tension.
The servant in the parable is impatient. He wants to rip out the weeds right away. But the master’s response is clear. First, he says, “No.” Then he gives two instructions: “Let both grow together” and “Wait for the harvest.” The word “let” implies patience: leave it alone, allow things to unfold in time. It’s astonishing: God allows space for evil to grow, for now. Why? Because that space is also a space for grace. It’s where God’s children learn to rely on Christ.
And the timing of judgment is in God’s hands, not ours.
Jesus tells us the enemy is the devil. That means if you are a Christian, the devil is at work in your life. If this church belongs to Christ, the devil is working here too. If the kingdom of Jesus has broken into the world, then Satan is still opposing it. That’s why the church is not only a waiting community but also a battling one. The same is true for every believer. Waiting is a mark of your Christian life. So is struggle. Following Jesus means growing through pain, wrestling with doubt, enduring conflict, and all the while longing for resolution.
If you’ve been in the church long enough, you’ll know this tension firsthand. A husband may feel disappointed by his wife, even though he loves her. A wife may be discouraged by her husband, even though she loves him. And let me be honest: pastors sometimes feel disappointed by the congregation, even though we love you deeply. And I know you have sometimes been disappointed with your pastors. It’s painful to see the weeds growing. In the church, it can feel like every day brings signs of worldliness, compromise, or sin. It hurts. It hurts every true child of God.
Sometimes, God allows me to see the weeds growing in my own heart. And as a pastor, one of the hardest parts of the calling is seeing the weeds in people I care about or seeing them spread in the church. But I also see hope: every day, I get to see wheat growing. God is always at work, quietly, patiently, powerfully. The kingdom is advancing. And that brings real joy. A joy that makes earthly riches seem like nothing. A joy that silver and gold can’t match.
Let me share just a few examples from this past week. One of our brothers went to visit someone in the hospital and stood by their bed, playing the violin for them. It was a beautiful, tender moment. A few days ago was Valentine’s Day. A young couple in the church shared how they spent it. One of them said, “Let’s go watch a movie.” But the other said, “Let’s go visit Brother Mingyong in the hospital and spend time with him instead.” Another sister told me that the friend she and her husband had been sharing the gospel with finally came to faith and was baptized. She said they were so overjoyed they couldn’t sleep all night. Have you ever experienced joy like that? Have you felt the deep satisfaction of seeing God’s kingdom grow in your life, around you, and among your brothers and sisters? That’s the joy of seeing the wheat grow. And that joy sustains us as we wait.
Pattern 4: The Kingdom of Heaven Is the Final Destination
The kingdom of heaven unfolds gradually. It’s an overlapping reality that involves struggle, waiting, and patience. These themes run through all three parables, but they don’t just describe life in the kingdom. They point toward a final destination: the harvest. And harvest involves a cutting.
When Jesus explains the parables, he doesn’t just mention the sickle; he also speaks of fire. After the harvest, he says the angels will gather out of his kingdom “all causes of sin and all law-breakers,” and throw them “into the fiery furnace. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew 13:41–42).
Now consider the mustard seed. One day, that tiny seed will grow into a large tree. It’s interesting, though, because mustard is technically a plant, not a tree. Even when fully grown, it’s still a shrub. But in Matthew and Luke, Jesus uses deliberately exaggerated imagery: the mustard seed becomes a towering tree, large enough for the birds of the air to come and nest in its branches.
That’s clearly symbolic. Jesus is drawing from Old Testament imagery, especially Daniel 4. In that chapter, King Nebuchadnezzar dreams of a massive tree reaching to the heavens, providing shelter to all the earth. Daniel interprets the dream: the tree represents Nebuchadnezzar’s vast kingdom. But it will be cut down by God. No human kingdom lasts forever. All of them will fall. In the end, only God’s kingdom will stand, and it alone will fill the earth.
So when Jesus describes the mustard seed growing into a great tree, where birds come to nest, he’s tapping into this prophetic imagery. In Jewish literature from the period between the Old and New Testaments, “birds” often represented the Gentile nations—the rest of the world outside Israel. In other words, Jesus is pointing to the global expansion of the gospel. The kingdom of heaven will one day include people from every tribe, tongue, and nation.
The parable of the leaven makes a similar point. The woman mixes yeast into three measures of flour, about 60 pounds. That’s a massive amount of dough! And again, we find a parallel in the Old Testament. In Genesis 18, when the Lord appears to Abraham before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, he says, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?” Then he visits Abraham’s tent. Abraham tells Sarah to prepare three seahs of flour—again, about 23 kilograms—to bake bread for their heavenly visitors. That scene paints a picture of a heavenly banquet, a sacred meal in God’s presence. And it connects with what’s hinted at in the parables: a final fulfillment, a divine feast, a moment of complete and final separation that is made even clearer in the later parables of Matthew 13.
Let me pause here and summarize: these three parables give us a rich portrait of the kingdom of heaven. It unfolds slowly. It exists in a mixed state—where good and evil grow side by side. It overlaps with the present world. It involves tension, struggle, and spiritual warfare. But it’s also moving toward a final harvest.
There’s one more word I want to highlight: hiddenness. The kingdom is, in many ways, hidden. It’s not always visible. It doesn’t always look powerful. And yet, it is being revealed. In theology, we call this the “already-but-not-yet.” That phrase reminds us that faith requires endurance and waiting.
The Mystery of the Kingdom Is Christ Himself
So far, we’ve looked at these parables as windows into the mystery of the kingdom. They describe its nature and characteristics. But you might be wondering, are these descriptions the mystery itself?
Let’s look at two key verses in Matthew 13. In verse 11, Jesus says, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.” And in verse 35, Matthew writes, “This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet: ‘I will open my mouth in parables; I will utter what has been hidden since the foundation of the world.’”
So what do we learn? First, that Jesus is revealing a mystery. And second, that this mystery isn’t new—it has existed since creation, but has remained hidden until now.
What is this “mystery of the kingdom”? What exactly is being revealed?
We need the broader context of Scripture to answer that. If we isolate the parables, we’ll miss the full picture. But when we read them in light of the whole Bible, the mystery becomes clear.
Paul helps us in Romans 16:25–27:
“Now to him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but has now been disclosed… to bring about the obedience of faith.”
Paul says the long-hidden mystery now revealed is the gospel—the message of Jesus Christ. And that’s the very mystery Jesus speaks of in his parables.
If you look closely at the three parables, each one centers on someone taking action: someone sows the seed, someone plants the mustard seed, someone mixes the leaven into the flour. That “someone” is the Son of Man. In each parable, Christ is the one at work.
So here’s the first conclusion:
The mystery of the kingdom is the Son of Man—Christ himself.
The kingdom is not primarily about process or growth or judgment. Those are all outcomes. At the heart of it all is Jesus. The kingdom has come because he has come. Its power flows from his death and resurrection. Everything else—its hiddenness, its conflict, its fulfillment—flows from this one truth: the mystery of the kingdom is Christ himself.
Paul says something similar in 1 Corinthians 2:7–8:
“But we impart a secret and hidden wisdom of God… None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.”
The Mystery of the Kingdom Is the Cross
Here’s the second conclusion:
The mystery of the kingdom is the cross.
If Christ is truly God, the Son of David, the promised King—then why does the kingdom unfold so slowly and painfully? Why is it mingled with the world’s brokenness? Why does God allow the devil’s work to grow alongside his own?
Because the mystery is revealed through the cross.
Have you ever prayed, “Lord, make me grow quickly—but teach me to wait patiently”? That’s the kind of paradoxical hope the gospel gives. Our hope for life, the church, and the world is the gospel of Jesus Christ and him crucified. That’s why we can pray: “Lord, grow me quickly—but teach me to wait.”
There’s a kind of moralistic idealism found in both secular culture and traditional Chinese thought that asks: “Where can we find a pure land in such a dark world?” In Buddhism, there’s even a “Pure Land” tradition.
But Jesus doesn’t describe the kingdom of heaven as a pure, unspoiled place. He reveals something shocking: the kingdom is a mixed field. Growth is messy. The dough isn’t evenly risen. The mustard seed starts off unimpressive.
Dear brothers and sisters, the church is not a pure land. The church is a messy field of mixed growth. Your spiritual life and mine are not pure lands either. They are places where life pushes through struggle. The devil is at work in each of us—but so is the Holy Spirit.
As Paul says, “The one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life” (Galatians 6:8).
The Warning Within the Mystery of the Kingdom
Let me close with two applications.
First, these parables remind us that perfectionism is not a gospel mindset. Perfectionism is just another form of moralistic tyranny. If Christ can endure the imperfections of this world, why are you demanding perfection—now, in this moment, in this life?
To insist on perfection here and now is, in a very real sense, to deny the mystery of the kingdom. The gospel tells us that idealistic dreams of flawless churches, perfect marriages, or utopian societies are actually anti-gospel.
If your brother in Christ isn’t perfect (and he isn’t), God can still use his imperfections for great good. That’s what gospel belief means. Since Pentecost, every great work in church history has been done through flawed people—even through flawed churches. That should either encourage or humble us, depending on whether we believe the mystery of the kingdom.
If you refuse to accept people or situations because they’re imperfect, that might sound spiritual—but it may actually reveal a rejection of grace. It might mean you’ve misunderstood why Christ had to go to the cross. Why did he cry out: “O faithless and twisted generation, how long am I to be with you?” (Matthew 17:17)? Because he came to walk with the imperfect.
Second, this mystery calls us to be slow to judge, whether in life, in faith, and in the church. Yes, we must discern right and wrong. But be slow to draw final conclusions about a person’s place in the gospel or their eternal destiny.
The one you think is wheat might be a weed. The one you dismiss as a weed might be wheat.
Jesus said, “The last will be first, and the first last.” That’s the great reversal of the gospel. In heaven, you may run into someone you never expected. But here’s a more sobering thought—someone hoping to see you might not find you there.
I don’t say this to shake your assurance of salvation. But I want to encourage you with this: when it comes to your marriage, your relationships, your personal circumstances, your church, or even your view of society, fix your eyes on the power of the gospel and the work of God, not on the discouraging, confusing present.
Pastor G. Campbell Morgan once said, there are two types of people who are always arguing. One type says the world is getting better and better, look at all the progress we’ve made! The other type insists it’s getting worse and worse. Pastor Morgan said they were both right. One part of the world is falling apart. But at the same time, the kingdom of heaven continues to grow, and the gospel never stops changing hearts. Wherever wheat is growing, weeds will be growing too. That’s one of the mysteries of the kingdom. That’s one of the secrets of spiritual growth. Wherever God is at work, the devil is too.
Years ago, while teaching about heresies, I asked my class, “Which country has the most cults and heresies?” It’s the United States. Because it’s where the gospel has been strongest. In Asia? South Korea—because it’s experienced the most revival. In China? Henan province—because it’s seen the most vibrant gospel growth in recent decades.
Wherever the church grows, weeds grow too. Wherever revival comes, spiritual conflict follows. And wherever that conflict happens, we are called to endure. Through faith in the gospel, God’s children are called to wait in hope.
Amen!
Let’s bow our heads and pray:
Lord, we praise and thank you. Give us discerning eyes and hearts—not just to see the mess in our lives or the work of the devil and become discouraged—but to recognize the work of the Holy Spirit in us, in our brothers and sisters, in our church, and in this generation.
Help us praise you for the power of the gospel at work among us. Make us a church that knows how to fight the good fight. And teach us how to wait quietly.
For you have said, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” May our hearts find peace and stability in the power of Christ’s resurrection and the glory of your gospel.
We give you thanks and praise. Hear our prayer, in Jesus’ precious name.
Amen.