An Invitation

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” (John 15:1-2)

I was reminded of these verses and something I wrote last year while I was walking along the beach a month or so ago. I was processing how much had changed in my life over the past year and admiring the glistening and vibrant seashells and pebbles that littered the coast.  I kept thinking how, when you took these little treasures home, their beauty fades – it doesn’t keep beyond the shore.  I can hear my friend say, even as I type these words, “that’ll preach.” Because it will.  They weren’t made for your shelf.  They were made for the shore.  You can try and emulate that beauty you found on the beach with polish or by placing it in a bowl of water, but it will gather dust and fade, or it will collect algae and stain.  You’ve removed it from its source.  It requires the ocean to consistently maintain its vibrance. 

Let me pause, right here.  Friend, the same is true for you and me – we require the Creator. 

Last year, my life felt like it had been turned upside down.  Years of building a home and a family seemed to crumble around me more easily than dunes on the beach.  People I loved left with little to no explanation.  In my pain, I tirelessly (almost maniacally) went and cut vines from a tree in my backyard.  Revealing scars where the tree tried to continue to grow through the restraints.  Through my actions, God was telling me, explaining to me, and revealing to me what He was doing, what He was allowing to happen in my life.  He was making room.  He was removing the restraints.  He was allowing me the opportunity to flourish. 

He was offering me an invitation to flourish. 

“You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you.  Remain in me, as I also remain in you.  No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.  Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.  ‘I am the vine; you are the branches.  If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.  If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.’” (John 15:3-6)

You are already clean – I promise, after being pruned, nothing about your life will feel clean or put together.  Stop trying to make it. This is a remaking.  Not by your hand, though.  This is an invitation for you and me – for those of us that may feel like the waves of life are consuming us and if presented an opportunity to just get our heads above water long enough we could wipe hair from our eyes, straighten our shirt, and put on a face that might look like we have some semblance of control in this storm that is raging around us. 

But we don’t… We don’t have control. That’s not the invitation. 

Let me just tell you, stop.  

Stop.  

Stop, you are already clean.  Jesus already purchased your invitation on the cross.  So, stop. Come disheveled. Your debt has been paid.  Come with a tear-streaked face and wave-swept hair.  You don’t have to hide the messy.  He sees you.  He loves you.  He’s not asking for perfect or put together.  He wants you – He wants you to abide in Him.  On good days and bad days.  Easy and hard.  He’s asking us to come to His shoreline, to be swept up in His embrace.  To abide in His presence. 

To abide in His presence.  

I think most times we stop there.  We expected this post to stop there. We expected life to get better.  We accepted the invitation, but I think we misunderstand the invite. Too often we translate abide to a break or a reprieve from the storms of life.  God didn’t promise that.  And when life doesn’t get easier, the pruning continues in the waiting and the abiding.  We start to feel forgotten.  We feel battered and raw.  We’re confused why our situation, and loss doesn’t seem to be redeemed.  We ask, “Lord, I surrendered to You – I’m abiding in You – why isn’t this getting better?”

Because. He’s not done – 

He’s still working on us.  And instead of seeing the gift, we see more hardship.  We get discouraged – feel more forgotten. Instead of leaning in and trusting the process, we lean out and walk away. 

We’ve come full circle, friends – we walk away from our source. When we walk away, we fade, we wilt… not to be dramatic, but we die.  You need your source – and our source is not of this world.  It can’t be found in the pleasures or things or even people of this world.  And to truly enjoy the fruits He has for our life (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, etc., Galatians 5:22-23), a relationship with Him is required.  To truly abide, He has to prune the things out of you that are of this world. The things that separate and distract you from Him.  So He can make you more Christ-like.  To make you Holy.  And it’s going to cost you something.  Even in the waiting.  Even in the abiding.  It’s going to cost you comfort. It’s going to cost you people.  It’s going to cost you possessions and pleasures.  It’s going to cost your pride. It’s going to cost you… something. 

I listened recently to a sermon where the speaker talked about how we pray to be taken out of tough situations, when we should really be asking, “What is God trying to pull out of me?” “What is He taking away to make me into His new creation?” The words from Steven Furtick always come to mind: the farmer doesn’t mourn the seed when he plants it.  He allows it to abide in the soil. To absorb water and swell.  To be split and shed its outer seed coat.  To push and climb through several inches of soil to break through.  Just like the farmer, God allows us to sit in dark places.  To sit in hard places.  Because allowing us to sit in these places, He knows, like the seed, we will seek His light.  A new source, a better source for our dependency.  

He’s after your heart, friend. 

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26)

In order for Him to do that, He has to take the old to replace it with the new.  Surrender and abiding is releasing that control so He can do that. 

It’s not easy. 

So, I’m asking you, can you rest easy in Him on the shorelines of life? Let His waters rush over you and smooth your hard surfaces, even if it means undergoing the pressures of the current? The pressures of the soil? The pressures of the pruning? The pressures of loss? Can you be the light and share the peace even if and even when?

You and I weren’t made for this world … we were made for His Kingdom. Don’t confine yourself to a shelf or a bowl. Don’t try to emulate, participate. 

Dance among the shores.