Remaining and growing.
Remain in me, and I in you. Just as a branch is unable to produce fruit by itself unless it remains on the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. The one who remains in me and I in him produces much fruit, because you can do nothing without me.
John 15: 4-5 (CSB)
Rolling fields of brown and green filled my line of sight as I drove out of town the other day. I had been feeling slightly claustrophobic and needed a break from the city streets and stoplights. Growing up on a dirt road which was just off a highway that was always 70 mph does not endear city streets to me. When it takes you 20 minutes to go 5 miles rather than 20 miles, there is something seriously wrong. City girl, I am not.
The fields outside the city were a welcome relief from the apartments and stores that had been my daily view. As I drove, I marveled at the nutrient-dense soil that was edged with moss green swaths of grass. The colors were so vibrant, speaking to rich depths and regular precipitation.
My hometown often seemed to be in a semi-drought state with little rain and plenty of clay hills. Nothing really grew on the hills besides sage brush. It was a hardy plant, but it was joined by the most delicate wildflowers in the spring. I’d crawl all over the hills at my grandparents’ ranch finding yellow bells and shooting stars that Grandma would then put in little vases for the day. They never lasted though.
It started me thinking about soil though. What is good growing soil? What magic ingredients are needed for plants to take root, mature, and flourish? Water, sun, nutrients – these are a pretty decent start for a plant.
But what about for me? for us? What is needed for us to take root, mature, and flourish? My innermost longings tend to revolve around security and stability, rootedness and community, flourishing and abundance, purpose and meaning. How do these things grow and mature in my life?
I’ve spent my 20s trying to figure this out and have struggled with the fact that growing tends to involve growing pains, time, and pruning. I consider my first years of teaching and see how they were filled with pain as I learned about betrayal, rejection, and people. Then I learned how it takes time for confidence to grow and assert itself through experience and courageous conversations. Next, I learned that pruning got rid of things that were not beneficial for me and refined the hard lessons I had been learning into new strength and purpose. Ultimately, I was being equipped through these growing years to use my experiences, my talents, and my gifts to honor God.
Growing involves remaining, remaining in Christ and sticking through the hard times. Life will never always be rainbows and unicorns. “They all lived happily ever after” only really happens when Jesus returns, and even then, there will still be pain for those who have not chosen Jesus. So, what does that mean for us? I turn to the master Gardener for that answer.
Jesus tells us in John 15, “I am the vine; you are the branches.” That’s a fairly straightforward statement. The vine, as in grapevine, is the core of the plant; the branches are off shoots finding their strength by clinging to the vine. They only produce fruit by remaining connected to the vine. Therefore, I must remain connected to Christ. All those things I want to grow like security, purpose, rootedness, abundance, and the rest, that can only happen by remaining in Christ. I can do nothing without Him, which means that I everything I do should reflect back to Him. I’ll mess up, that’s a guarantee. However, if I keep coming back to Jesus, He’ll pull me a little closer and help me grow a little stronger so I can keep trying.
What are you wanting to grow? Whatever it may be, draw a little closer to Jesus, even if you’ve messed up. He’ll pull you in tight and help you produce fruit that gives you purpose and glorifies Him.
