Blame It All On My Roots

One of the most shocking things about moving to a new country is the lack of roots.  Some things are obvious and expected, like missing friends and family, the processes of finding a new church home, the excitement and confusion of experiencing a new culture, and the delights and dismay of exploring and adapting to a new gastronomy.  Other things are less anticipated and, therefore, more surprising: tax systems, laws and regulations, safety expectations, income and spending adjustments, utility billing systems, home repair, and the list goes on and on.  

At first blush, this lack of roots seems irrelevant.  Given time, however, it develops into a fuzzy feeling of dis-ease that can be hard to put a finger on.  Some lingering anxiety, sneak attacks of insecurity, unreasonable concerns about what the future holds, embarrassment at not knowing the ropes, and a niggling homesickness are waiting in the background to pounce when you least expect them.  It reminds me of 1 Peter 5:8: “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”  Instead of the obvious lures of Satan, these more subtle and natural emotions can take on a devastating life of their own if left unchecked.

Several months into our move, God started recalling Jeremiah 17:7-8 to my mind.  I love the imagery of this scripture and it’s always been a comfort to me.  

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, 

    whose trust is the Lord.

He is like a tree planted by water,

    that sends out its roots by the stream,

and does not fear when heat comes,

    for its leaves remain green,

and is not anxious in the year of drought,

    for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

God was reminding me that all of those other root systems at home were of man, but the root system that really brings stability is trusting in the Lord.  

I have always had an artist’s soul if not one’s talent, and I often think in images that convey a deeper meaning to help me absorb and process big thoughts.  Then, I like to turn those mental images into “word pictures” of truths that I can tuck into my pocket to call on when needed.  

Something just wasn’t working with this image. 

Through reflection, I realized that it was because a tree is static.  Sure it moves with the wind, but by nature, it is planted.  It does not move.  But people do.  Life does.  Our lives are full of movement even if we never leave the town we were born in.  People come and go, fortunes rise and fall, and health waxes and wanes.  Life is, well, living.  

A few years ago, I experienced the Year of the Sailboat.  As a result of that year, I learned how to sail.  Going through the certification process required a seven-day sail in which we were required to crew and skipper a catamaran.  Now, I had been on many boats, but I had never lived on one for a week on the ocean.

Did you know that boats move?

Of course you do, so did I, but man there is a lot of movement on a boat on the ocean!  You are never still, even when you are.  There are so many factors that affect the boat's movement: man-made action like sailing, docking, and maintenance, ocean currents under the water, wave periods on the water, tidal surges, wind direction, and wind strength to name a few.  

One of the most important and most patience-requiring parts of sailing is anchoring.  Not only do you have to find a suitable location with sand qualities that will receive your anchor, you then have to go through the fairly long process of sinking your anchor securely into the seabed so that you don’t drift in the middle of the night.  We watched this first hand happen to another boat; they almost drifted into a sunken ship and barely escaped major damage to their ship.  Anchoring is a serious business.  It can cost you your boat and even your life if you are not careful.

Over the course of your anchorage stay, you can be amazed at how much you move, even when safely and firmly anchored.  You easily swing 180 degrees repeatedly and the rocking of the boat is enduring.  That’s because, as I already mentioned, even if the boat is not underway, the wind and the waves are always changing.   Just like life.

Did you know that the anchor was one of the earliest symbols of Christ and a contemporary of the ichthys symbol (the fish)?  The understanding is that it harkens to Hebrew 6:19 which reminds us “We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.”   Jesus is our sure and steadfast anchor that we can trust in no matter what changes are going on in our life.  

When I think about myself as a tree rooted in Christ, I can’t help but focus a bit on my own contribution to stability by way of my trunk and my branches, and my leaves.  I know that God is the source of my water, but I am still focused on my own resiliency.  I am still relying on my form and structure a bit…my strengths, my skills, my strategies, my relationships, my efforts…

When I think about myself as a boat anchored in Christ, I can’t help but focus on my absolute reliance on Him.  If my anchor fails, I fail. Complete and utter trust is placed in Him.

I’ve mentioned this weird term God and I have coined: Expansive Vulnerability.  It describes Him asking me to surrender my attempts to lock down my efforts in order to manage a stressful situation, and instead expansively relax into the vulnerability, trusting Him to manage the situation while I respond to Him in prayer, attitude, and action.

When I use the “word picture” of God Is My Anchor, I feel much more comfortable easing into the state of Expansive Vulnerability.  That’s because the work is being shared between He and me when I think of God as my Root.  When God is my Anchor, He is doing all of the work and I am just clinging to Him.  

During the Year of the Sailboat, I actually encountered Oswald Chamber’s Utmost for my Highest for the first time.  The reading on June 8 is, to this day, one of the most impactful devotionals I have ever read.  It says, “If you yourself do not cut the lines that tie you to the dock, God will have to use a storm to sever them and send you out to sea.  Put everything in your life afloat upon God, going out to sea on the great swelling tide of His purpose, and your eyes will be opened.”

If we see place our faith in manmade roots for our safety and stability, God will remove those roots.  He is a jealous God and wants our faith.  However, If we place our faith in God as our Anchor, He will take us on the journey of a lifetime and we will never be the same again.