Rooted
copyright 2020 by Mollie Bozarth
“Dwell,” “Family,” “Father,” “Rooted and Grounded in Love.”
Too often have I applied this verse to kids or people who come from loving, supportive families. And, yes, many of us are blessed to be grounded in that way – to be surrounded by people who love us unconditionally, giving us a firm foundation on which to grow and succeed. But what if 6 weeks in quarantine has been a time of mere survival, a wounding confirmation of fears and dysfunction that you long to escape?
Spring is a time of roots. Things that have lain sleeping, dormant, dead, begin to reach down and out and up. Impervious bulbs break open, sending radicles to drink up life-giving moisture. Sun streams through clouds, calling green to rise, stretch new limbs, blossom, and bear fruit.
If you are surrounded by brokenness and dysfunction (your own, or your family’s), you may feel more like the struggling weed in a cracked sidewalk than a flourishing plant with soil-bound roots. If that’s you, then I’d like to encourage you today with the truth that Ephesians 3 is about transplantation.
Paul speaks of his own transplantation and transformation early in the chapter. In verse 8, he says: “Although I am less than the least of all God’s chosen people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ.” This simple sentence is chock full of “outside, looking in.” Paul (aka, Saul) had been an outsider to the point of hunting down Christians as a young man. Followers of The Way were his prey until God grabbed hold of his heart, uprooted it, and planted in him a desire not only to live for Christ but to be willing to die so that others might know him as well. Gentiles also were considered outsiders. They were not part of the Jewish chosen family of God. Yet, Paul (a Jew) was sent to preach to Gentiles, inviting them to be grafted in, transplanted in, to the family of God.
Ephesians 3:14-21 states:
For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.
“Dwell,” “Family,” “Father,” “Rooted and Grounded in Love.”
“Family” – in Christ we are part of a new family, an expansive family reaching generations behind us and to generations to come. Our earthly families may seem cursed by sin, pain, even addictions that have been passed down the line. But, grafted into a new family, the old root is gone. We aren’t bound by the shackles of our forefathers. Jesus says in John 15:5, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If anyone abides in me, and I in him, he bears much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
“Dwell” – abide, dwell, live – being rooted means that Christ is completely at home in our hearts, and we make our home in him. Being strengthened “with power through his Spirit in your inner being” (v. 16) is more than charging a rechargeable battery; it’s like a nuclear reactor in our inmost being where his “glorious riches” are a fathomless and ceaseless source of life-giving, renewable energy. As we dwell in him, our roots draw nutrients; if we are cut off from him, we become the limp plant, withered and lifeless.
“Father” – all humans have a father. Not all fathers are present. Not all fathers love or know how to love properly. But this new family we’re transplanted into has a very present Father. James 1:17 says, “Every good and perfect gift, every good thing given, is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” God doesn’t sit in an office far above us, detached and “swamped” with paperwork as he tries to deal with the messes of this world. He doesn’t have unreliable moods so that we never know where we are with Him or how to earn His favor. He does discipline us, as dearly loved children (Proverbs 3:12)…think of it like a gardener pruning branches so that even more can grow. But, like the verse in James states, God is ever present, giving GOOD gifts! And we can trust Him not to shift or change His character.
“Rooted and Grounded in Love” – so, your root has nothing to do with current circumstances. It has nothing to do with generations who came before you. Even if you are blessed with a stable earthly family, your root is not contingent on their stability. Your success and survival do not rely on your own strength, positivity, or determination. If you are rooted in Christ, you are grounded in a love that surpasses knowledge! What a thought! Only through his grace can we begin to comprehend how wide and long and high and deep is his love for us. But as our radicles reach down into fathomless soil, and our tendrils curl outward to cling to the vine, we begin to rise, stretch new limbs, blossom, and bear fruit.
As I was double-checking my vocab in writing this blog post, I read that if you brush your finger gently against the tendril of a vine, that tendril will turn and curl towards the direction of the touch. What an amazing snapshot of the Creator and his creation! God knows we need a gentle touch to turn and respond to his presence. And, just as any plant will lean towards the available sun, so we lean towards our Heavenly Father, eager for the warmth of his presence, ready to absorb the vitamin D we need to not simply survive but thrive.
When we are rooted in his love, fruit starts to show in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). I remember a random conversation with students this past year. I don’t remember the gist of the conversation or how the subject came up, but at some point I commented that joy comes from God. A young lady was standing across the room (probably washing out supplies at the end of class), and I’ll never forget the look on her face. Surprise; question; longing. “Joy comes from GOD?” she wanted to know. The thought had never occurred to her. My answer to her, and to readers here today was/is a resounding, “YES!!!” Hebrews 12:2 says, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the JOY set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Joy is such a deeper meaning than happiness. Happiness is something fleeting that depends on our feelings and circumstances. Joy can be experienced even in the worst of circumstances, even in the darkest of weeks. Just as Christ’s anticipation of joy enabled him to endure the cross, so can joy give us strength and hope for now and for the future.
I love Paul’s benediction at the end of the Ephesians passage (v. 20-21). “To him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work in us…” Too often, I forget this truth. But I have tasted and experienced it many times in my own life! God is willing and able to do so much more than we could even think to ask. And his power (that nuclear reactor inside us) is beyond anything we can comprehend. Rooted in his love, we fill up and up ’til “filled with the fullness of God,” we begin to overflow. Then his grace spills over into the lives of others around us.
About the Artwork:
I always enjoy commissions because they force me to push past imagery or color schemes I would choose for myself. This commission was for a friend whose family emigrated from South Africa. The springboard for my design came from cloth patterns that would be found in that area. I wanted rich patterns with vibrant colors. Thus, in drawing, the first thing I did was to sketch out a border using patterns from the cloth. Next, I wanted traditional African trees. As it turns out, my friend grew up on a property full of Acacia trees. So, the choice suited well! I wanted the trees to root down into the patterns below. This is why I allowed the trunk of the tree on the left to break past the pattern edge and the border to bump up above the ground line. Lastly, I wanted a family of elephants. This wasn’t to make the design cliche’ “Africa.” The elephants were chosen partly because their daughter had been foolishly asked whether she had a pet elephant as a child (asked by ignorant American kids in her class at school). So, she used to joke about having a pet elephant…which of course she’d never had. Besides the inside joke, the elephants represent a family unit. And I have watched this family work so faithfully as a unit all the years I’ve known them.
The color scheme was dictated by decorations already in the room where they planned to hang the finished piece. The border was inked with a brush, allowing me to swirl and fade the ink, almost like watercolor. Then I started filling in greens, balancing them with yellows throughout the pattern. This organic method of design is often how my work develops. I’ll have a general idea in my head. But will start to place colors, and the idea in my head morphs and changes as I determine how to balance this color here with a little of that color over there. By the time I’d finished the border, I knew I wanted a subtle glow of sunset in the sky behind the trees and elephants. However, it had to be a soft glow and subtle fade so that the lettering/words would remain a focal point. I had originally thought to do all the lettering in crimson. But, as things progressed, I preferred a transition from green to gold to reds. This ombre’ fade gave depth and movement to the words, which could look blocky and boring if all done in the same color, same value. The color fade is also a subliminal message. The lettering starts as green (like growing plants), then fades to ochre yellows (as dust of earth), and deepens to a russet brown (roots) so that the words themselves feel rooted and heavier in the final line than in the upper lines of text. Ah! The fun of being an illustrator!
This is the longest blog post I’ve typed out in a very long while. I feel I should place a check-box (as my students used to do to when writing long papers) and say, “check here if you actually read this far!” Instead, I’ll just say, “Thanks for reading!” and we’ll leave it at that.
molliebozarth 