Over the course of our summer attempts at gardening, we have had a few basil
plants that fared quite well for the first several weeks. Bear with the
metaphor that awaits as it may perhaps reflect a spiritual struggle that you
have often found yourself in–I certainly have. These basil plants budded
and grew, but eventually became stunted after a few weeks of growth. We
decided to transplant them to give them more room, imagining that their
roots had filled the pots that originally contained them. Sure enough when
we freed them from their containers, their root system was bound, tied,
knotted, and suffocating. It had maximized the space and growth to be had
from the pots and needed something different–better. We broke through the
roots, loosening their grasp on each other and replanted them into deep,
rich soil. They have since blossomed like never before–even dividing and
creating new plants in their newfound home.
I wonder sometimes if our own sense of safety, comfort, and blessing is
much like these plants? Within the confines of relationship, material
comfort, a good job, a lovely home, healthy happy children, we tend to find
our comfort–our security, our peace, even our importance. Not many of us
would regularly admit this, but my family's recent loss of employment has
brought to the forefront how tightly I have held onto what I deemed
"security." In reality, these things become our idols–and rob the King of
Glory from his true place in our devotions. He is the rich, bottomless,
boundless soil–the only true soil in which we find eternal peace, rest,
security, and safety. I am finding myself beginning this new week with
confession of the ways I so often cling to my "pots" and with a newfound joy
to instead find freedom in the "soil" of the Savior.