Rooted and Reachin’

Howdy, there! Come on over here and ease yourself into that rocker on this ol’ front porch, friend, and don't pay one speck of mind to that big old snappin’ turtle that's dragged itself up from the pond and planted itself flat in the middle of the yard like it's filin’ a formal land claim with the county. That creature that's been patrollin’ that mudhole since before your great-grandmother put up her first jar of bread-and-butter pickles has all the time in the world. So, let's talk about something that'll put roots under your feet deeper than a two-hundred-year-old white oak.

Back in the day many years ago in the 20th century, a young man named Billy Sunday got himself saved and an older believer handed him three rules so simple they'd fit on the back of a seed packet. Fifteen minutes a day of lettin’ God talk to you. Fifteen minutes talking back. And fifteen minutes tellin’ somebody else about the Savior. That young man followed those three rules and became one of the most powerful evangelists this country ever produced. Not because he was real fancy. Because he was fed.

Psalm 1:1–3 paints the picture as clear as creek water on a bright mornin’ sayin’, “The person that delights in the law of the Lord and meditates on it day and night is "like trees planted along the riverbank, bearing fruit each season. Their leaves never wither, and they prosper in all they do." A tree that's got its roots reachin’ into the river doesn't pace around worryin’ about drought. It doesn't fret because the sky went gray. It just keeps right on growin’ because it knows exactly where the water is.

Joshua 1:8 locks that truth into place like a fence post set in concrete tellin’ is, "This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate in it day and night, that you may observe to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success." Day and night. Not once a week when guilt nudges you toward the nightstand. Not a hunt-and-peck method of skimmin’ a verse here and a verse there like a yard hen peckin’ gravel and callin’ it a meal. Every single day, as natural and necessary as breathing.

And Colossians 3:16 shows us what it looks like when the Word is working right. It dwells in us richly, bringing wisdom, teaching, and a grace that hums like a tune you can't shake loose no matter how far from the porch you wander.

Father, some mornings I treat Your Word like a 'possum playing dead in the side yard. I know it's there. I walk right past it and go about my business. Forgive me because what I'm walking past is life itself. I don't want to be a tumbleweed that goes wherever the wind pushes it. I want to be that tree, rooted deep and bearing fruit in every season. Plant me by Your river and let me stay there. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Friend, here is what Billy Sunday figured out early and what Psalm 1 has been gently shouting at the whole human race since the day it was first written down. A well-fed bluetick hound runs a trail longer, truer, and stronger than one that's been skipping meals and sleeping out in the January cold. The Word of God is that daily feeding, and a soul that skips it regularly will find itself running confused circles through the tall weeds of life, losing the scent of everything it was actually made to chase. You were not built to be a tumbleweed, carried along helplessly by whatever wind is blowing hardest through your week. You were made to be that riverbank tree, deep-rooted, fruit-bearing, and green-leafed even when the season turns its coldest, drawing from a river that has never once in all of recorded history run completely dry.

Now, carry yourself right off this porch and into the rest of this fine day, friend, and take this with you like a full canteen on a long trail. The Word of God has been waitin’ on you the way a good neighbor leaves the porch light burnin’ all night long just in case you finally decide to come on over. Don't make it wait another sunrise. Open it up, drink it down deep, and then just watch what starts growin’ in you.

With joy,

Gwen