The Lost Art of Rootedness

I wonder if in this transient day and age—where at the touch of our fingertips, we can realistically uproot ourselves in a place one day and end up on the other side of the planet the next—if we’re missing out on the best of what the Church has to offer.

Rootedness.

Commitment.

Love.

If the last 2+ years have shown us anything, it’s that we’re shallow. We’ve allowed geopolitical tensions, social justice initiatives, and health recommendations to tear us apart.  

We’ve allowed our preferences to determine our placement. 

If this church doesn’t meet MY individual needs, it must not be a good church. 

If they don’t worship the exact way I want to worship, if the teaching isn’t exactly what I need to hear, if the people are slightly annoying, if the building is too big or too small, well, I’ll just go elsewhere. 

And we think that by leaving, we’ll find what we’re looking for, without realizing that you cannot form strong bonds without taking the time to plant deep roots. 

The medieval German theologian Thomas á Kempis put it this way, “wherever you go, there you are.” Meaning, whatever relational baggage you’re carrying with you now, if you leave, you’ll just carry it with you to wherever you go next.  

So, here’s my charge: stay.

Stay and grow and heal.

For some of you, you have deep father wounds or relational wounds or church wounds and instead of cultivating a community to belong to and to work through those with, you’re allowing the threat and difficulty of healing, of sharpening, of potential conflict, to uproot you. And then you keep wondering why you don’t have anyone to confide in, or why you’re not growing, or healing.

To develop a familial community; To grow our commitment, loyalty, and love for one another, takes time. It takes relationship. It takes trust. All of that and more is available to you.  

Here’s the beautiful thing about family: For better or for worse, we all belong to one.

I recognize that for some of you reading this, family has been the biggest source of pain, disappointment, and disillusionment of your life up to this point. But I believe that Jesus—being who He says He is—has the power to redeem your situation. Whether that’s mending and healing old wounds or giving you the strength to form a new path, to begin a new legacy, or to write a new story. 

Each of us possess the responsibility of cultivating healthy communal rhythms in our home and in our church. I believe that our greatest witness in the western, individualistic, technology centric world we live in today, is the same that it was for our forefathers and mothers in the early Church 2,000 years ago. It’s our committed, consistent love of God and neighbor. That as we demonstrate the qualities of a disciple of Jesus—showing mutual affection, love, tenderness, and care towards one another—as we build lives of stability, rooted in a rich, thick webs of interdependence, we begin to cultivate families, households, communities, and churches that function as the light of the world that Jesus calls us to be. 

So, to fathers and mothers: May you lead out of the posture of a servant. May your commitment to character lead the way for the rest of your household. 

To brothers and sisters: May we treat one another with a kindness, care, and compassion counter-cultural to the way of the world. 

To children: May we be a people who love, honor, and respect our elders. May our wisdom increase tenfold as we submit ourselves to the leadership of those who’ve gone before us.  

And to the Church: May we be families that model for the world around us the affectionate love and care that Christ holds for us. 

Amen.