By Sherita Jones | The Anointing Grace
For the woman who has heard the Word a hundred times and still can't figure out why it won't take root.
The Lord Woke Me Up
The Lord woke me up around 3 in the morning and put roots on my heart. Not a sermon. Not a scripture to post. Roots. So I got up and started researching root systems, and what I learned left me in awe and, honestly, shocked.
There are two kinds of root systems. One grows the way it was designed to grow. The other grows wild. It pushes into areas it was never supposed to be in and entangles everything in its path. When a farmer finds that kind of root, he can't just yank it out. He has to strategically take his time and untangle it. Then he has to plant something new in its place. And even then, he doesn't walk away. That new planting has to be nurtured and cared for, brought back to life, before anything else can be done with that ground.
I sat there with that, and the Holy Spirit started connecting it to everything I've watched happen in the Church. Even to me. This one convicted me first.
The Heart Can't Be Read at a Glance
The prophet Jeremiah said it plainly:
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?" (Jeremiah 17:9, KJV)
Read that last question again. Who can know it? And God answers in the very next verse: "I the LORD search the heart, I try the reins" (Jeremiah 17:10).
We are not the ones who search hearts. God is. Which means we should be a lot slower to act like one look at somebody's life tells us everything about what's going on inside of them.
If the heart can't be known at a glance, then judging by fruit alone will always miss what's happening underground.
We are so busy judging the fruit that we never ask what's entangled at the root.
Sowing on Unbroken Ground
Jesus taught us about the sower in Matthew 13, Mark 4, and Luke 8. The seed is the Word of God, and it falls on four kinds of ground: the way side, stony ground, thorny ground, and good ground. Same seed. Same sower. Different results. The difference was never the seed. It was the ground.
And I keep thinking about my little sisters in the Church. How many times have they heard, "God is your Father. You don't need validation from a man"? It's true. Every word of it is true. But if the ground hasn't been dealt with, if nobody ever helps her face the father wound, the rejection, the abandonment, the stronghold sitting at the root, then we are sowing good seed on ground that was never prepared to receive it.
God already told us what to do about that:
"Break up your fallow ground, and sow not among thorns." (Jeremiah 4:3, KJV)
"Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the LORD." (Hosea 10:12, KJV)
The Hebrew word for fallow ground, nîr, speaks of ground that has to be broken up and tilled before it can be used. Ground that has been left hard. Sowing on it anyway isn't faith. It's waste.
Now the Ground Requires Work
Go back to the garden. Before the fall, God placed Adam in Eden "to dress it and to keep it" (Genesis 2:15). Tending was always part of the assignment. But after sin and disobedience entered the world, the ground itself changed:
"Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee... In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." (Genesis 3:17-19, KJV)
Then God sent man out of the garden "to till the ground from whence he was taken" (Genesis 3:23).
Do you see it? Before the fall, the ground cooperated. After the fall, the ground resists. Thorns showed up for the first time. Tilling became toil. Work was now required.
And those same thorns show up again in the parable of the sower, choking out the Word (Mark 4:19). The fall made our ground hard and thorny. That means healing is not automatic. Somebody has to till. Somebody has to sweat. Root work is not optional in a fallen world. It's required.
The Word Is Also the Plow
Now let me be precise, because I'm not saying stop declaring the Word. The Word isn't only seed. It's also the plow.
"Is not my word like as a fire? saith the LORD; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?" (Jeremiah 23:29, KJV)
"For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword... and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." (Hebrews 4:12, KJV)
The Word can break stony ground. The problem is not that we declare it. The problem is that we declare it like a slogan instead of ministering it like a surgeon. We quote it at the fruit instead of carrying it down to the root.
We Are Managing Symptoms
Here is what I've learned. We are being taught, directly and indirectly, to manage our symptoms but not how to be totally free.
It's like going to the doctor. You leave with a prescription to manage the symptoms, and you go through life only managing the symptoms. Nobody ever deals with the cause. And in the Church, the believers who can manage their symptoms best, the ones who keep their behavior in line, are the ones who get acknowledged. So we raise up women who are skilled at hiding roots, not women who are free.
You can speak all you want. Until the root of the behavior is dealt with, the fruit will keep coming back.
Restore Her in Meekness
We are quick to call out bad fruit. We yell. We speak out of our judgment and our anger when we correct. And we offer little to no help identifying and doing the root work. But hear what the Word says:
"Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted." (Galatians 6:1, KJV)
The Greek word for restore is katartizō. It's the same word used for the disciples mending their nets in Matthew 4:21. It speaks of setting a broken bone back in place. You don't set a bone by yelling at it. You set it carefully, with skilled hands, because you know it's going to hurt.
And the word for meekness, praotēs, is not weakness. It is strength under God's control. Gentle, but not soft on sin.
Yet I notice we are trying to restore in anger. Paul said meekness. And he said considering thyself, because the woman doing the correcting has roots too.
It takes more time to restore than to rebuke. Rebuke takes a sentence. Restoration takes a season.
Let It Alone This Year Also
Jesus told a parable about a fig tree that hadn't produced fruit in three years. The owner said, cut it down. But the dresser of the vineyard answered:
"Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it: and if it bear fruit, well." (Luke 13:8-9, KJV)
The owner judged the fruit. The dresser went to the roots. He dug around it. He nourished it. He gave it time. That is the farmer in my 3am research. Untangle. Replant. Nurture. Then expect fruit.
And if we don't, Hebrews warns us what happens: "lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled" (Hebrews 12:15). Roots don't stay private. Left alone, they grow wild into everything around them, just like that root system I read about.
Every woman's journey is different, and each of us arrives at the destination of healing at different times. So before you correct the fruit, sis, kneel down and ask about the root. And before you correct anybody, ask the Lord about your own.
Reflection Questions
- What fruit in my life have I been managing instead of letting God deal with the root?
- Is there a truth I've heard over and over that hasn't taken hold? What might be hardening that ground?
- When I correct someone, do I come in the spirit of meekness or in anger?
- Who is God asking me to "let alone this year also" and walk with patiently?
- Am I willing to do the sweat work of tilling, or do I only want the harvest?
Father, search my heart, because I cannot fully know it. Break up my fallow ground. Untangle what has grown wild in me. Plant Your Word in its place and nurture it back to life. And make me a restorer, not just a rebuker. In Jesus' name, amen
