The things we cannot see.
About six months ago, someone at work gave me a plant. Completely against my will. But there are those people in your life who give you plants whether you will it or not, so I now have a plant.
Six months ago I would have told you I’m not really a plant person. I would have said the plant will be dead in 6 weeks, having completely lost the will to live because I never remember the plant’s existence, let alone its need for water.
But the plant is still alive. So, two months ago, I decided to try and propagate it to take home. Because if I’m going to be a plant parent, I should really have a plant at home, right?
I googled plant propagation and went for it. I chopped off a branch and stuck it in a jar of water. For a month I watched it, checking every day for some tiny sign of a root (google said it would take four weeks).
Every day I checked. And every day, I found nothing.
Nothing.
No roots, no signs of roots, no signs of change at all. Not even a nubbin. Everything stayed exactly the same. But the branch was still alive, so I left it in the jar.
Two more weeks went by. Two more weeks of absolutely nothing.
I finally gave up. I decided to dump the jar and the branch and find another plant to love.
Lately, I’ve been watching my life like I’ve been watching that branch. It’s still green, but the things I keep hoping for and watching for aren’t appearing like I expected. Nothing is changing. Not even a nubbin.
It gets discouraging after a while—all watching and no appearing. All questions and no answers. Hope thins.
I checked the branch the next day. Only because it’s habit, not because I thought there would be a root.
But there was a root.
Actually, there were two roots.
Two roots.
This status quo branch, this poster child of disappointed hopes, has roots.
Glory be.
So here I am with these unexpected roots.
And I find that I also have unexpected hope.
Because I remember that even though I have no idea how God is working, He is. And even though I have no idea how long it will take, He will accomplish His purpose. Maybe not the purpose I expect, but the best purpose nonetheless.
If I hope for things I can see, it’s not actually hope. It’s just seeing. But if I hope for things I cannot see, then I can wait with renewed patience because I know He is working far beyond my vision. Maybe someday I’ll understand. But for now, I’ll keep hoping.
You never know when you’ll find a root.
“For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” Romans 8:24-25