On Rain.

What a time the last ten months have been.

I write as I listen for the rain. Spattered rumbles of thunder, shifting leaves as creatures move to find their way home. Clouds dipping low as the burnt gold glow of last sunlight dully shines through the trees.

Rain brings healing. The passing of seasons bring growth. As spring births summer, it's easy to become steadily comfortable. However, I want my heart to be always prompted to bear fruit akin to spring rains watering the earth, buds blooming and seeds lighting up.

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I wrote to You to bring the rain, and you did.

It was glorious, smelling hints of it and wondering if it would come--
then listening to leaves rustle as
big drops of water begin to land on the earth.

The cool steadiness of it was soothing, as Your Word to our souls.
The whiteness of the water contrasting against green trees:
Astounding.

Pouring down now.
More than just sending rain.
Flooding this place with even more proof of a creator.

Rooted.

I've been reading a book by Mark Buchanan called Spiritual Rhythm. I highly recommend it to anyone, but especially to people who find themselves in any kind of transition. The following is an excerpt from the chapter entitled "Sustaining." Buchanan writes about trees and water and meditation and attitude and action....all sorts of things that he somehow poetically, beautifully, ties into Scripture. (See Psalm 1:3: "They are like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither--whatever they do prospers.")

Buchanan writes:

"And blessed are those who choose what, on the surface, looks bland, routine, boring: being rooted. In contrast to the frenetic activity of those who heed the wicked--a blur of motion, they are--those who heed the Word are immovable. The frenetic activity of the wicked increasingly parches them, whereas the stillness of the blessed continuously nourishes them. The blessed are not going anywhere, which in this case is a good thing. The apostle Paul warns that if we do not grow in Christ, bearing fruit, we will be 'blown here and there by every wind of teaching.' We'll be like tumbleweed, fallen leaves, chaff: something rootless. But we're meant to be trees, deeply rooted. Trees may be buffeted by winds, and bend beneath them, but if the roots are strong and deep, they stay where they are. Immovable.

Being rooted. That's a mixed picture. Does it convey stability or sterility? Strength, or cowardice? Sturdiness, or stuckness? Perseverance, or stubborness? Contentment, or complacency?

Both. It depends.

Sometimes rootedness is an alibi for doing nothing, going nowhere. Sometimes it's a failure to dream and take risks. Sometimes it's a way of justifying a life of complacency: 'I'm just staying rooted.'

But mostly, rootedness is a picture of strength. It's a picture of a life that is deep and vibrant, richly alive without having to chase the next thing, and the next one after that. It's a picture of one who 'bears fruit in season.'"

I read this and wanted to call up the author and thank him for writing it for me.. My prayer is something new, based on what the Lord has been teaching me of late. Before I encountered this chapter, I had already started talking about the idea of being rooted with Karen, a lady who essentially mentors me (whether she knows this or not).

Karen said I should just dig deep and plant roots wherever I am. Until recently, I would not have received this well--I wasn't ready. Furthermore, I assumed that planting roots meant that I was "stuck" in a particular place for the rest of my life.

But I see it now--it's just a part of life. When I plant the roots, they'll come up at some point--they have to. Trees live and die and are reborn from seeds previously blown into the wind, landing on fertile soil. It will probably hurt, this uprooting.

I have to go ahead and do it, though. The hurt will only mean one good thing: That I loved deeply.

My prayer then, is that I am rooted in Jesus, first and foremost. It's something I've prayed before. Meditation on the Word brings delight, brings rootedness. May I dig deeply into the Word, that it would saturate my soul and bring even more healing. Furthermore, that my rootedness would bear fruit; while I'm in Athens, GA, my hope is that people see the fruit of labor rendered in full pursuit of better knowing the triune God. Finally, that I am not complacent in this time of transition. I want to take risks again, dream again, live life to the fullest. As I approach my birthday, I recognize the roots I'm placing into this Georgia ground. It scares me a little, even still--but I am stilled in the knowledge that the Lord God is not only rooting me in Him, in this place, in this time--but that He is also helping me dig up all this fallow ground, making room for more fertile...stronger...better soil in which to plant.