The Vine Still Finds You
I admit it. The heat of summer in Georgia had finally worn me down. I stopped beginning my mornings with God in the backyard because the moment the sun touched my older, poorly insulated home, the temperature rose with it. Staying cool felt easier than seeking stillness.
But God has a way of reminding us of what we forget.
One morning, I walked into my kitchen and saw something impossible:
A vine was growing through my window.
Yes—through the window.
It had climbed up the outside of my house and slipped through the tiny seams of the frame. First: who knew vines were that strong? Second: how did I miss something so persistent, so alive?
Well… I had kept my blinds closed for days to reduce the heat. Closing out the sunlight also meant closing out everything happening just beyond it.
And as soon as I saw that vine pushing past the blinds, I thought about the name itself:
Blinds.
They blind us from the light.
And maybe they also represent how easily we become blind to the things of God—
to the light of Christ that is always reaching toward us.
But like that vine, God finds a way through.
“I Am the Vine…”
The creeping vine brought to mind Jesus’ words: “I am the vine…”
And suddenly I realized—I had forgotten.
In the noise of this world, and in the tension I was carrying in my own life, I forgot I was connected to the Vine.
I forgot that as a branch, my only calling is to bear fruit.
Not strive.
Not push.
Not fix.
Not prove.
Simply bear fruit.
And the first fruit we’re invited to bear is the fruit of the Spirit.
The Quiet Work
Unlike the visible, impressive fruit we tend to chase—success, status, applause—the fruit of the Spirit is quiet, internal, steady. It is the holy work the Spirit does in us when we yield to God.
Someone cuts you off in traffic? Yield to the Spirit.
Someone grabs the last carton of eggs? Yield to the Spirit.
Someone misuses power or platform? Somehow… still yield to the Spirit.
This is not the easy work.
If it were, everyone would do it.
Every camel would walk through the eye of a needle.
On our own, spiritual fruit feels impossible.
But with God?
All things are possible.
Including the slow, sacred growth of the Spirit’s fruit in a weary and impatient world.
It’s Not Up to Us
If fruit-bearing were up to us, we would fail.
But it isn’t.
The Vine does the heavy lifting.
We simply stay connected.
We hold the fruit.
We express the fruit.
We reflect God’s image not by striving but by abiding.
Sometimes the Vine shows up through a closed window.
Sometimes through a closed heart.
But it keeps reaching toward us—nudging, whispering, reminding:
You are connected.
You are held.
You will bear fruit.
Want to Go Deeper into “The Quiet Work”?
If this reflection resonates, I created a gentle meditation series for my employer called The Quiet Work—a collection of short, contemplative practices to help you pause, breathe, and reconnect with God.
Watch the full playlist on YouTube: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZd0VJaE-1Br6sNPG9axPT_Wt1YCqdCQO&si=OjdpREMplPJfH_eo
(A perfect companion to this reflection on abiding in the Vine.)