Root Bound

As some of you may know, I dabble in gardening.  And by dabble, I mean that I go to the nursery, buy a few plants, figure out where I might plant them in this massive wilderness we now call home, dig a hole for them, and then hope for the best.  I’d love to say that I've got a green thumb, but it’s more of a khaki-like shade – a hint of green, with lots of brown.

A few weeks ago I hit up my favorite nursery for some fall color, and loaded up the back of hubby’s pick-up truck with my treasures.  I was eager to get them all in the ground, where I hoped that maybe some of them might just thrive. One of the mums, though, was decidedly root bound.  The plant popped right out of the container, and the sides were a complete coil of roots – dry, tangled threads.  Clearly, this mum had long since outgrown the space where it was confined. 

Funny thing about root bound plants – they end up strangling their own roots in a desperate search for nutrients and hydration.  As the roots have nowhere else to go, they just keep circling around the pot, over and over, until it’s a tight mess.  You can fertilize it all you won’t, but the plant won’t be able to absorb the fertilizer through the soil like normal.  In fact, there’s little to no soil left at this point.  While the plant may be able to produce new leaves, it won’t bud – and ultimately the growth is stunted.  In extreme cases, the plant could die.

Remind you of anything?

How many times have we trapped ourselves in a tight space, forcing God in that little container with us?  We've defined our space as we see it, not how God sees it.  We climb into our little pot, and we’re content to just stay that way.  We've shut ourselves off from any future revelations from Him about who He is and what He has for us.  Because after all, we’re pretty sure we’re doing just fine.  At a glance, we appear healthy; in reality, we’re slowly dying inside.  We've been deceived, of course.  All the things that once fed us, the comforting limits we placed on ourselves are deceptively strangling us, slowly lulling us into inactivity.  There may be a big opportunity for growth out there – but it involves stepping out of that comforting little pot we've placed ourselves in.

So what’s the cure for a root bound plant?

It’s not as simple as transplanting the plant elsewhere.  If you simply re-pot, the plant will keep strangling itself.  You've got to carefully untangle the roots, and prune away some of the longer, straggling ones that are really struggling.  Only then can the plant begin to thrive again.  It’s a painstaking process, and recovery doesn't happen overnight. 

Over the past few months, I realized that I was just like the mum in that pot.  I had fallen into a comfortable routine, and essentially refused to see past the pot where I was planted.  I had defined God by what I saw in front of me, and discarded any notion of Him that spoke otherwise.  I was doing all the right things – regular prayer, devotion, attending church – but it wasn't giving me the nourishment that I needed.  Jumping out of that container was scary – but necessary.  And I’m still being pruned – but now I've got lots of room to grow and thrive again.  And I’m once again learning more and more about who God is, and what He has for me.  

I may not have the skill to save the mum that was root bound, although I’m hoping I do.  I’m just glad my Father is a much better gardener than me.

He cuts off every branch (OR ROOT) in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.  -- John 15:2