How Do We Grow Roots?

“All things must come to the soul from its roots, from where it is planted”

— St. Teresa of Avila

I painted this series backwards. I began with the painting of the bud break and worked my way back through the previous 3 panels.

Why?

Because sometimes, it’s not until you get through a season that you can look back and see what it was all about.

In the midst of being buried under winter seasons, all you see is dirt. You’re just trying to get through it, much less understand it.

I’ve often tried to make sense of a winter season while I’m in it, especially when it is a particularly prolonged winter. But over time, I’ve come to learn to accept that this is how it works. No one really knows what is hidden and dormant in winter until spring.

Just like no one really understood what Jesus’ death was about until the resurrection.

In the midst of a fog, in the midst of a crisis, in the midst of journeying through the dark, sometimes all you have to do is get through it. To keep going. To keep getting up every day. To keep showing up. And, what we often miss - to keep paying attention.

And in the breakthrough, the picture becomes clearer. Those moments of just getting by find their meaning and their purpose in the light.

When your little sprout pokes its head through the soil, what you discover may surprise you. Because it is then that you look down and discover that you have grown roots.

When I experienced a breakthrough after a long season of suffering in 2015, I started painting the sprout first, but as I got to the soil, it became clear what was needed to form that little sprout. A depth of growth under the soil that allowed me to push through to the light.

I looked back and discovered that there was far more to this whole process of waiting in the soil than I had thought. There are greater things that God offers us in the rich soil of adversity than simply receiving the reward of the harvest.

There is the reward of who we are becoming. Paul says this is a joy worth celebrating,

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

- James 1:2-4

What Grows in the Soil of Adversity

When we reach out for God in the midst of the painful dry seasons, our roots grow deeper in search of water and our stems grow up towards the sky in search of light.

And as we stretch out towards God, not only do we find him, but we grow in the process. Our roots have deepened and the journey has strengthened us in a way that can weather any future storm. There is no other way this can happen.

Often we wait and wonder when the seeds we planted are going to sprout their little green leaves above ground. But it’s under the soil that the growth is happening.

It’s what grows when you persist in faithfulness, regardless of the outcome. It’s what that takes root when you continue in obedience to God, even when everything around you is screaming that it’s not worth the sacrifice.

It’s what is cultivated in the soil when you have waited and prayed and hoped for God to come through: perseverance, character, patience, long-suffering, and even joy.

You won’t realize it until later, when the harvest finally does come, that you’re a little stronger, a little more resilient, and a little more patient for the journey ahead.

How We Grow Roots

The seasons of pain in my life caused me to go deeper than I ever have in prayer, in lament, in petition to God. I stared in the face of my pain and invited God into it with me.

And as I opened myself up to allow God’s living water and breath to enter in, I found a new part of myself—a self that has freedom in the limits of humanity. I learned the truth that the ministry doesn’t rise or fall on my ability or inability.

I learned that in seasons of personal pain where there doesn’t seem to be an answer, I can still wonder at the beauty of hope and lament mingled together; I can celebrate life and mourn death at the same time, and allow healing to come through grief.

I learned more deeply how to let go of trying to fix things and achieve my way out of a situation, how feeble my attempts are at producing growth, and how desperately dependent I am on God to produce change. I was humbled to see that indeed, no matter our efforts,

“Neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow”

— 1 Corinthians 3:7

When our shell is cracked open and we begin to grow in the darkness, we begin to see things differently and we actually become something different.

No longer a seed stuck in the shell of self-protection in fight or flight, but a plant that slowly comes out into the light and risks vulnerability with God and others - the kind of plant that produces fruit. We take on a form that is alive and eternal, no longer stagnant, but rises above the soil, above the darkness, multiplies and produces new life.

And as we grow, we break out of the shell. The old ways of seeing the world begin to fall away and what others see instead is the light of the Gospel through us, growing and expanding out of our fractured shells. We shed off our old selves to reveal something underneath—a new creation that we were always meant to be.

“Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all…therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

— 2 Cor 4:16-17; 5:17

Reflect:

1. What kind of eternal glory is being achieved in you amidst these momentary troubles?

2. What is the new creation that is emerging while the outward shell is wasting away?

3. What are the roots that God has been growing in the midst of a prolonged waiting season? How are you different now than you were several months ago?

A Prayer:

Lord,

May I grow roots deep in the soil of Your marvelous love. As I wait and hope for resurrection, may I reach out for you - growing upwards towards your light and down into the depths towards your living water. May I be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. And may I trust that You are able to do immeasurably more than I could ask or imagine - including growing me in the kind of person You have created me to be - with perseverance and character beyond measure.

Amen.

Based on Ephesians 3:17-21