"Rooted Beyond Barriers"

"Rooted Beyond Barriers"

I've always loved walking, especially in the early morning when the world is quiet and the air is fresh. Living in a place blessed with clean air and peaceful neighbourhoods, these walks refresh my mind, boost my health, and connect me deeply with nature's beauty. There's something about the rhythm of walking that opens my heart to see things I might otherwise miss.

Last week, as I walked past Amy and Joe's bungalow, something caught my attention. In their quiet front yard stands a fence—meticulously crafted, firm, and painted dark to blend into the beautiful surroundings. It's a kind of fence built to divide spaces and hold its form, strong and purposeful.

But right through it rises a tree, old and weathered, yet unwavering in its ascent.

I stopped to look more closely. This tree hadn't grown around the fence. It hadn't retreated or compromised its course. Instead, it had grown straight through, splitting the wood, breaking frames, and reshaping the fence to accommodate its presence. In my fifty-plus years, I'd never witnessed anything quite like it.

At first glance, it seemed like an accident—a collision between nature and human construction. But as I stepped back to get a better view, I realized I was looking at something much more profound. It felt like a parable written in bark and boards.

Since the pandemic shifted my life away from active work, I've come to see how we live surrounded by boundaries—social pressures, unjust systems, broken relationships, personal trauma, and our own doubts. Like that fence, these structures are built with intention. Sometimes to protect, but often to limit, confine, or discourage growth. Many of us as believers feel boxed in, wondering how to keep our faith alive when life builds barriers around our purposes.

But walking home that morning, I discovered something the tree had been teaching all along: You don't need perfect conditions to grow. You only need to stay rooted.

This tree hadn't waited for permission or demanded the fence be moved. Instead, it trusted its design—to reach upward and outward, regardless of opposition. Over the years, the tree grew stronger, its roots deepening underground while its trunk gradually split the fence open. It didn't break in anger but in quiet perseverance, as evidenced by the weathered wooden boards that had slowly given way.

This is how we must grow in the Spirit. Or, I will say I am expected to grow in spirit.

We encounter cultural barriers, personal failures, fears of rejection, unanswered prayers, and prolonged seasons of uncertainty. But these aren't signs to stop—they're invitations to press deeper. The Spirit of Christ within us isn't intimidated by fences. He equips us to grow through them.

Scripture reminds us: "Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. They will be like a tree planted by the water... it has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit" (Jeremiah 17:7-8). Despite drought, despite fences, the tree thrives.

The apostle Paul echoes this truth: "We are hard pressed on every side but not crushed... struck down but not destroyed" (2 Corinthians 4:8-9).

That's what the tree taught me that morning. No matter what builds up around you—pressures, traditions, expectations—keep growing. Let your life shape the structures around you instead of letting them shape you. Let your roots anchor deep in the living water of God's Word, and your branches reach toward heaven, splitting every limitation with quiet strength.

God isn't asking us to move the fence. He's asking us to trust that we're made to outgrow it.

And so, my prayer is: "Lord, help us remain rooted in You when life builds fences around our purposes. Give us the quiet strength to grow through opposition and let our lives testify to Your faithfulness. Amen."