One day my sister called me and told me of a dream she had. "Rachelle," she told me, "Last night I had a dream that you had roots." Roots? I remember wondering, how can I possibly have roots? My life is a quagmire. My marriage is in chaos. Everything around me is falling apart.
How can I have roots? I am a postcard of a failed human being. I am the epitome of brokeness. Roots?
I have always walked on the topsoil of Christianity. Never digging deep. Only delving in far enough to taste a little of it's life-giving fruit. I am a failure at Christianity. Jesus may have died for others, but He is done with me.
Roots. When my sister told me of this dream, I thought that these roots were some distant hope. But in the midst of my brokenness and despair, I began to seek. I began to find. I began to trust wholeheartedly. I had nowhere to go but up.
I began to sacrifice. I began to give up. I began to love again. To see the beauty of the world around me. I realized that I had been seeing things, as if I were trapped in a dark box.
And in the midst of all this Love, I began to see these roots. These very deep plantings. These seeds of love that He had driven into my very core. Roots. Now I am no longer walking on the shallow topsoil of Christianity. I am digging deep into the dirt. I am discovering roots.
Jesus is for me. He is for you. He is for the ones who have lived in the quaguire. Those whose faces have been pushed into the mud. Those that have faces full of dirt and mouths full of mud. He is for you.
There is a real Hope in Him. There are roots. Beautiful and deep. God plant those seed so deep within me, that nothing or no one can ever pull them from me. Ingrain them in me so that they cannot be stolen. That they cannot be taken. They are mine. You gave them to me. They are my roots.