Rooted in Life
(written by Bianca Labuschagne from Beevine art through inspiration from Holy Spirit)
This morning, I wasn’t planning to do much—it’s Sabbath, after all. But after the storm we had yesterday, with the electricity going off most of the afternoon and evening (and the day before that too), I needed to put a load of washing in the machine. My laundry room is outside the main house, still attached, but I have to go out the back door to reach it.
As I came back toward the house, a strong breeze came rushing through from the seaside—fresh, cool morning air. I stopped for a moment just to breathe it in. That kind of air always makes me think of the moment God breathed life into Adam’s nostrils. Whenever I open the doors and windows and the kids complain, I always tell them, “Breathe a little—it’s Jesus’ breath!”
I stood on the porch for a bit, looking out at my backyard. It’s lush and green, like a little forest with untouched beauty, and behind it rise the soft green hills. I was just admiring the view when something to my left caught my eye.
In my neighbor’s yard, there’s a tree that fell over during one of the big windstorms we had a while back. The winds were so strong that they broke our fence, and many people had property damage. Every week since then, my neighbor has been cutting off a branch here, digging a little there, trying to get the whole tree out by the roots.
But what caught my attention today was this: despite being broken, cut, and half-buried, the tree has started growing new leaves.
It’s been through the storm, through the struggle, through attempts to remove it completely—but it’s still alive. It reminded me of that verse:
“A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.”
(Isaiah 42:3)
That tree is rooted in life. Everything around it says it should give up, but something within it refuses.
And it made me think of my own life. There were seasons when I felt like that tree—broken, unwanted, and exhausted by the storms. But somehow, I kept growing. Not because I was strong, but because I was rooted in Jesus, the true source of life.
Even when my faith was weak—when it didn’t feel “good enough”—it was still faith. It was still holding on. And sometimes, that’s all we can do: hold on to Him, let His breath fill our lungs again, and trust that even in the ruins, new leaves will grow.
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