A Glimpses of Wonder Entry

Tucked away in quiet basements, tunnels, and repurposed barns, a silent crop is at work—multiplying by the millions, even without a single ray of sunlight.

Mushrooms don’t grow like typical plants. In fact, they’re not plants at all. They’re fungi—an entirely different kingdom of life. And that difference changes everything. Unlike plants, mushrooms don’t perform photosynthesis. They don’t draw energy from the sun. Instead, they grow in dark, cool, humid spaces—spaces that most crops would find unwelcoming.

And yet, in these unlikely places, mushrooms thrive.

A single acre of mushroom-growing space can produce up to 1 million pounds of mushrooms per year. That astounding yield is made possible by something hidden just beneath the surface: mycelium—a vast network of threadlike fibers that spreads through soil, straw, wood chips, or even coffee grounds.

But how do mushrooms turn waste into food?

The answer lies in their extraordinary method of digestion. Mycelium secretes powerful enzymes into the surrounding material—breaking down complex plant fibers like cellulose and lignin into simpler compounds it can absorb. This process happens outside the organism’s body. In a sense, mushrooms digest their surroundings first, then absorb the results. What was once agricultural waste becomes rich, edible nutrition. It’s a recycling miracle, built into their design.

And while they don’t need light to grow, that doesn’t mean they avoid it altogether. Some species benefit from soft, indirect light to help trigger the fruiting process. What they do require is moisture—lots of it. With a preference for high humidity and mild temperatures, mushrooms flourish best in environments that are damp, cool, and rich in oxygen.

Even in the darkest corners of the world, mushrooms go to work—quietly breaking down the old and building something new.

Even when there’s no sunlight, Jehovah’s brilliance still shines. The line “They grow in the dark” holds a quiet irony—because what mushrooms produce is a radiant reminder of design, not accident. Jehovah’s wisdom doesn’t need the spotlight to astonish. It works in silence, in shadows, and in stillness—transforming waste into nourishment, and darkness into life. What he builds in hidden places is no less full of purpose, beauty, and power.