Growing Down, Not Just Up: Acknowledging Invisible Progress

This is the time of year, at least in my part of the world, where the world seems to be settling into hibernation mode. My garden is overgrown and ready to be put to bed. We’re putting away the outdoor toys and bringing things in for the cold weather ahead.

The fall harvest is in full swing, but after that will be a period where growth tends not to be evident.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what growth means and what it looks like. I think for much of my life, I was looking for the obvious signs of growth. Longer branches, taller trunk, leaves and preferably even fruit. These are all signs of a thriving plant.

Plants need solid roots if they are going to mature well over time. This is how they weather storms. The deep roots reach into the soil to hold in place against high winds. During times of drought, those same roots seek out moisture. (Ever wonder how tree roots end up in your water and sewer lines? They are thirsty!)

I think one of the errors that is sometimes made in spiritual growth is the obsession with the outward, growing up kind of results.

I heard a parenting talk years ago by Paul David Trip. He said that if all you want is fruit, you can staple some apples to those trees. But then the fruit will eventually rot and fall off. Because it has to come from the inside, the fruit is an outgrowth of a mature healthy tree.

He made the bold statement that at times Christian parenting is much more about apple stapling than it is actual, sustainable growth of children into healthy, God-fearing adults.

We all go through seasons where fruit is evident, and those where we are growing into the soil, becoming stable and prepared for big growth to come.
But without deep roots the tree won’t last, the branches will die and the fruit with shrivel. As we grow up we must also have to grow down.

Plants can rot from the ground up. I’ve seen it in my house plants and even my outdoor berry bushes. The leaves and fruit still look Ok, but if you look closely around the base of the plant, there is a slow brown or black creeping up the stem. At that point, there isn’t much I can do, the plant is dying. The roots have already rotted, either from too much moisture or not enough. This harvest is the last I will be seeing.

Right now when I look at my children, and even myself, I’m focusing on putting down roots. I can’t compare my own spiritual growth or theirs to each other or those around us. From the outside, we’ll see fruit, leaves, and branches at different times. Those things will come when we are ready. For now, I want to know that their roots are reaching down in the soil, settling in for the long haul.