Roots To Bear the Branches
Sitting down on the warm smooth rocks, I dangled my feet in the cool, clear water. After a two and a half mile hike, my sister and I found this off-the-berated-path waterfall. Worth it. The sound of rushing waters drowned out the sound of everything except my thoughts.
The calm I felt in the middle of this moment in this middle of this wilderness was so entirely opposite to the stress I lived under this past week. I took a deep breath of misty air and let out a sigh as I remembered how I had wrestled my chaotic thoughts and lost sleep over them. The stress was not linked to any one particular stressor but rather a thousand small ones that I just couldn’t shake off. All the things I needed to do. All the things I wanted to do better. It was that steady, low-lying undertow of stress that almost swept me away this past week.
I watched my sister splash about playfully in the falls while I chose to soak up some sun and stay warm. My eyes lifted to the top of the falls. Right where the water rushed over the top stood a small bush of about five sprawling branches. It’s base was completely buried in water, with nothing beneath it but a rocky ledge, and yet somehow it was rooted in that rock. Instead of hanging on for dear life, it bounced and swayed gently as water rushed forcefully past it. I would dare to say it was bobbing, having just as much fun as my sister frolicking in the splash zone below.
I was already in a spirit of prayer, and it seemed that the Lord had an object lesson for me in this hardy bush growing in the most unlikely and extraordinary of places.
The only thing that is keeping that bush from being swept away is the strength of its roots, I thought to myself.
Just to the left of it, I saw another plant, only this one was nothing more than a singular shoot. Maybe one day it would be as big as the bush next to it, but it was clearly a much younger sprout. It made me wonder how a seed even got rooted there in the first place, where the water rushed over the top of the falls. But here is was, a younger smaller bush with the same resiliency and determination to grow tall and not get swept away.
The only thing that is keeping that shoot from being swept away is the strength of its roots. Each plant’s roots must be able to hold the size of its branches. Even small plants can grow in rushing waters; the secret is the strength and depth of the roots in comparison to the weight of the branches.
The calm I felt in the middle of this moment in this middle of this wilderness was so entirely opposite to the stress I lived under this past week. I took a deep breath of misty air and let out a sigh as I remembered how I had wrestled my chaotic thoughts and lost sleep over them. The stress was not linked to any one particular stressor but rather a thousand small ones that I just couldn’t shake off. All the things I needed to do. All the things I wanted to do better. It was that steady, low-lying undertow of stress that almost swept me away this past week.
I watched my sister splash about playfully in the falls while I chose to soak up some sun and stay warm. My eyes lifted to the top of the falls. Right where the water rushed over the top stood a small bush of about five sprawling branches. It’s base was completely buried in water, with nothing beneath it but a rocky ledge, and yet somehow it was rooted in that rock. Instead of hanging on for dear life, it bounced and swayed gently as water rushed forcefully past it. I would dare to say it was bobbing, having just as much fun as my sister frolicking in the splash zone below.
I was already in a spirit of prayer, and it seemed that the Lord had an object lesson for me in this hardy bush growing in the most unlikely and extraordinary of places.
The only thing that is keeping that bush from being swept away is the strength of its roots, I thought to myself.
Just to the left of it, I saw another plant, only this one was nothing more than a singular shoot. Maybe one day it would be as big as the bush next to it, but it was clearly a much younger sprout. It made me wonder how a seed even got rooted there in the first place, where the water rushed over the top of the falls. But here is was, a younger smaller bush with the same resiliency and determination to grow tall and not get swept away.
The only thing that is keeping that shoot from being swept away is the strength of its roots. Each plant’s roots must be able to hold the size of its branches. Even small plants can grow in rushing waters; the secret is the strength and depth of the roots in comparison to the weight of the branches.
In other words, as the branches grow, so must the roots to be able to sustain the plant. Or perhaps it is better said this way: A plant’s roots must deepen in order for its branches to spread out.
A few weeks ago I planted some very small flowers in a very small pot. The flowers flourished and grew big and strong until they were more than double the size of the pot and spilling over the edges. A few days later, the whole thing started to wilt and die despite my tender watering efforts. That’s when it dawned on me: perhaps the pot was too small. I removed the flowers and discovered that the roots had pressed to the edges of the dirt on all sides, so I broke up the dirt clod to untangle them and encourage new growth in new directions, and then I put the flower in a large space in the ground. Within a few days, the plant was flourishing again.
It’s the same principal. I just am prone to forget that as the branches grow on the surface, so the roots need to grow underneath. I tend easily to the branches which I can see, but I fail to tend to the roots which remain unseen. Do we not do the same thing in our spiritual lives? Do we not want to bear more fruit and spread our more branches without the much needed unseen work of growing deeper roots?
A few weeks ago I planted some very small flowers in a very small pot. The flowers flourished and grew big and strong until they were more than double the size of the pot and spilling over the edges. A few days later, the whole thing started to wilt and die despite my tender watering efforts. That’s when it dawned on me: perhaps the pot was too small. I removed the flowers and discovered that the roots had pressed to the edges of the dirt on all sides, so I broke up the dirt clod to untangle them and encourage new growth in new directions, and then I put the flower in a large space in the ground. Within a few days, the plant was flourishing again.
It’s the same principal. I just am prone to forget that as the branches grow on the surface, so the roots need to grow underneath. I tend easily to the branches which I can see, but I fail to tend to the roots which remain unseen. Do we not do the same thing in our spiritual lives? Do we not want to bear more fruit and spread our more branches without the much needed unseen work of growing deeper roots?
I’ve been hanging out in John 15 for some time now, learning more and more about what Jesus means when he says that He is the True Vine and his Father is the Gardener, that we are the branches chosen to bear much fruit, that fruit comes only when we abide, and abiding happens when we obey.
The words of John 15 came rushing over me as I watched the little branch and the big bush sway peacefully as water rushed by and over the top of the falls. I had almost been swept away with the rushing water this past week, and now I understood why. I had been growing my branches but not my roots.
This season is a perfect one to examine our roots. Coronavirus is making everyone (whether they are aware of it or not) reevaluate what is most important to them. When things in our world are shifting and uncertain, or just plain unusual, we get snapped out of our normal rhythms, which makes us beautifully susceptible to God’s molding and sanctification. These current circumstances create the perfect classroom for us to examine our branches and deepen our roots.
Are we getting swept away in rushing waters? Are we clinging to the rock for dear life? Or are we gently bobbing and swaying as the wind and waters rush past? Our branches can only be sustained by the strength of our roots. And the deeper our roots go, the more naturally our branches will grow. Focus on the root, and you will bear much fruit.
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