"...but the godly have deep roots." (Proverbs 12:3 NLT)
I’ve longed for roots my whole life through.
We grew up on the move. My parents met and married in North Dakota. Dad had bought a farmhouse amidst a collection of ten houses called Auburn. From what I can gather, the economic downturn of the early eighties sent Dad’s alignment shop into a tailspin and amidst that mess, Mom was called to vocational ministry. They sold everything so she could start seminary at Garret in a suburb north of Chicago.
I don’t remember the transition from rolling wheat fields to bustling city streets, but I’m sure it included culture shock for my folks. We spent three or four years in student housing. Our third floor flat was robbed at least two times so we spent a lot of time outdoors enjoying the opportunities the city had to offer. We were there just long enough to work a North Shore accent into my system. It resurfaces when I talk to my sister: she returned to Chicago in her twenties.
Upon seminary graduation, Mom was recruited into the Iowa Annual Conference. We moved south and west, to a rural community in coal mining country. Mom ministered faithful to those three parishes for as many years, and then the mysterious hand of ministry assignment moved us up to northwestern Iowa.
We somehow managed to hole up in that big old parsonage through my high school graduation. (Lots of prayer and begging on mom’s part, I’m told!) But even though I was with my classmates from 4th grade on, I never did feel like I fit in. A few years ago at our class reunion, I still stood about like a sore thumb, wondering what we had in common.
High school concluded and I got married young. I found my person and I was ready to put down roots at last. What’s that phrase? We make plans and God laughs? Rob and I have moved more times than Abraham. In an effort to be helpful, he made a document a year ago, and bless his heart, he couldn’t recall a few of our addresses. I refused to participate in the paperwork trail. Try as I might, roots have escaped me. I’ve turned out more tumbleweed than oak tree and it pains me to think about it.
Today’s text reminds me where I am really planted. My roots go down deep into God’s love, for sure. What I lack in geographical stability, I make up for in spiritual fortitude. This peripatetic life the Lord has insisted upon has forced me roots to bury into Him. And today I can count that as a blessing.
"Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him. Your roots grow down into God's love and keep you strong." (Ephesians 3:17 NLT)
"But the godly will flourish like palm trees and grow tall like the cedars of Lebanon. For they are transplanted to the Lord's own house. They flourish in the courts of or God. Even in old age, they will still produce fruit' they will remain vital and green." (Psalm 92:12-14 NLT)
Lord, we continually fight the desire to make our home here on earth. Today we recall, we are to remain rooted in You. This world will pass away and with it, everything in it. Your words will not pass away. Your love remains forever. May we grow our roots down deep into You, secure in Your affection and future for us. Amen.