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Written by Stacy Wooten


Something happens to me in springtime that makes me want to buy plants. Despite my better instincts and memories of my house turning into a plant hospice in years past, I come home laden with greenery and optimism. This year is no exception, so I’ve been thinking about how to make plants grow and recognizing just how little control I have over the process. I’m finding there are many spiritual parallels.


I identify strongly with the personality of Martha in Luke 10:38-42. It’s hard for me to rest; I want to work, to “do”, to feel like I have control. The thought of sitting and listening to Jesus feels hard for me to justify while there are tasks to knock off the list. I often end up burned out and tired, wondering why life feels so exhausting.


But when Psalm 1:1-3 describes what is looks like to live the blessed life, the psalmist says, “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers.” When the Scripture looks for a picture of a righteous life–one enjoying the good way that God ordered us to live–it doesn’t point to an industrious bee or a saint tirelessly doing good deeds, but rather a tree. What can a tree do to be fruitful and flourishing, to be successful? A tree doesn’t “try hard” to make fruit, but rather it produces when it's being fed by a source of life. Again, this passage points to the blessed life as one of delight and meditation on the Lord, instead of pointing to a person’s efforts. God designed us to produce fruit out of a life of joy and recognition of His character. 


The Bible often describes this concept of being “planted” in the Lord as “abiding”. In John 15:4-5, Jesus also uses a plant metaphor when He says to His disciples, “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” If we are not rooted and abiding in Christ as we seek to serve and grow, we end up parched and withered, like a plant trying to get water from sandy desert soil. If I’m not abiding in the Lord in my parenting, in serving, in the work He’s given me, it’s going to show in the fruit I produce–speaking sharply to my family, growing bitter and discontent, trying to control the scenarios around me, or letting anxiety consume my thoughts.


So, what does it look like practically to abide in God? Psalm 1 points to delighting in and meditating on God’s word. We see Mary slowing down, laying aside her tasks and burdens, to listen to Jesus. We, too, can slow down and listen to His word, giving space for prayer and listening to how God is speaking to us. Abiding starts with remembering who God is and that our own stories are just a part of His larger love and purpose for the world. It means not trusting in our own efforts in life, but surrendering our will, our work, our successes and failures to the Lord and trusting in His goodness. It means finding peace in Him and practicing Sabbath rest, believing in His provision of our needs and desires. Ultimately, the blessed life, one abiding in Christ, is overflowing with the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5: 22-23). 


Abiding begins and ends with remembering that our work is just participating in what God has already started, and that He is the one who makes our contributions actually meaningful, helpful, or fruitful. Psalm 127: 1-2 says, “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.” When we abide in Christ, when we rest in His good works and His working through us, we enter into rest. Not a fruitless rest or a “I give up, I’m just going to fall on the couch and watch Netflix” rest, but the waiting rest of a plant connected to the true source of life, trusting in the Gardener who nourishes and prunes and grows the seed. May we find that same rest as we live like the trees of Psalm 1, rooted and abiding in Him.

Written by Samantha Meese


God, we come to you this morning and first just want to thank you for the gift that

children are. We thank you for the many children that are part of the congregation here

at Waypoint and the joy that they bring to our church body. The psalms tell us that

children are a good gift from you and we believe that to be true. God, we know that

there are many in our congregation who are walking a painful road to parenthood and

who are praying for the good gift of a child.


Today we lament and grieve with those who are hurting in our church due to infertility,

miscarriage or infant loss.


For those experiencing infertility, we pray for your nearness during invasive diagnostic

testing and month after month of heartache. We pray for answers. We pray for kind and

empathetic doctors and nurses. We pray for your guidance and wisdom in their decision

making process as they decide what to do next.


We pray for those who have experienced miscarriage or infant loss, who have children

in heaven that they've never had a chance to meet or watch grow up. We pray for your

comfort that they would know that their children are in your care and that they are not

forgotten. For those who choose to try again we pray for courage and peace.


We pray for protection over marriages. Grant these couples many moments of joy and

fullness of life in this present moment while they hope and pray for the future.

God, we pray for this church congregation to be a safe place to bring this grief. We pray

that you would give us eyes to see those who are hurting in their journey to parenthood

and teach us how to mourn with those who mourn.


God, we know that you are our comforter, that you love us, and that you see us in our

pain. Sometimes those things can be hard to believe when we are deep in the midst of

heartache and suffering. Draw near to those who are hurting and strengthen their faith.

Remind them of who you are. Give them eyes to see the goodness in the plans that you

have for them.


We ask all these things in your name.

Amen


Written by Cal Draper


When was the last time you had a question for God?


If you are like me, you may find yourself asking things like “What is your purpose for me today?" "Should I follow this career path?" or, more commonly, “What is your will for my life?" Then, when life hurls uncertainties at us, perhaps the questions intensify as we echo the cry of the psalmist, “How long, O Lord?” (Ps. 13:1). Maybe we have searched the pages of Scripture for answers to theological questions. Does Genesis suggest a young earth or an old earth? Why does God allow suffering? When will Christ return? What a gift that God has designed us as a people of wonder, longing to satisfy our curiosities.


But what happens when God has questions for us?


As Erika reminded us in her sermon on Genesis 16 a few weeks ago, the first words God utters to Adam and Eve after the fall take the form of a question: “Where are you?” (Gen. 3:9). On the surface, the question has often felt strange to me. Isn’t God omniscient? Doesn’t He know all things? And won’t David later proclaim, “You have searched me, LORD, and you know me…you discern my going out and my lying down. You are familiar with all my ways”? (Ps. 139:1-3). Or how about the rhetorical suggestion in Jeremiah 23:24: “Can a man hide himself in secret places so that I cannot see him?” And just to pull another from the New Testament, “No creature is hidden from His sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Heb. 4:13). If all of this is true, maybe it moves us to reconsider the purpose of God’s question to Adam.


Moments before God enters this scene, Scripture tells us that Adam and Eve isolated themselves in a remote corner of the Garden and covered their bodies with fig leaves. This is the very first human response to sin on record—guilt, shame, and hiding. Then God’s voice: “Where are you?” We might naturally expect Adam to give a direct answer: “I’m over here” or “We are behind this fig tree.” Yet, instead of a where, he offers a why: “I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked, and I hid myself” (v.10). God’s question draws something out of Adam that he was desperately trying to suppress and moves him to confront the heartbreaking rift between them. In many ways, this episode mirrors the narrative of the entire Bible. Over and again, we read that God’s people sin, turn away, and hide while God lovingly and relentlessly pursues them. He often does so with soul-penetrating questions.


When we look ahead to the New Testament, we find that the very first words of our Savior recorded in John’s Gospel bear an astonishing resemblance to God’s question to Adam after the fall. One day, after John the Baptist’s circle of disciples had grown, he glimpsed Jesus walking by and declared, “Behold the Lamb of God.” Upon hearing these words, Andrew and another unnamed disciple left John’s side to follow Jesus. The Savior, fully aware of their presence, turns to them and asks, “What are you seeking?” (Jn. 1:35 and 38). No immediate introductions, no casual greetings—just this searching question: What do you truly desire?


These are not only questions for figures in the Bible: they are questions for us. Where do you find yourself today? This week? This season? It’s easy to get caught up in the routines of life—going to school or work, caring for your spouse and family, spending time with friends, participating in weekend activities, planning vacations, and more. Yet often we can be so wrapped up in these wonderful gifts, goals, and pursuits that we miss the Giver’s gentle, persistent call: “Where are you? What are you seeking?” What an incredible Father and Savior we have, one who cares enough to help us see where we are, whether we are running from Him, hidden and afraid because of our sin, or too distracted by our personal goals and ambitions to recognize it. He exposes our hearts, yet, for the sake of Christ, He neither shames nor condemns us. Instead, He invites us to turn and follow Him, just as He did the earliest disciples, saying, “Come, and you will see” (v. 39).

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