Knowing Him: The True Vine
There is nothing greater than knowing Christ. Seven times in the book of John, Jesus offers us profound insight into His nature and character. In this series, we seek to guide the reader into a deeper understanding of these “I Am” statements, and the rich hope and comfort that can be found in Christ in the midst of grief.
The room was quiet. I saw the concern on the ultrasound technician’s face as she gently circled her wand across my 20-week belly. Her demeanor had changed almost instantly from just a few minutes prior.
After several seconds of horrid silence, she stated, “I am going to have the doctor come in.” In that moment I knew. I asked in reply, “You are not able to find a heartbeat, are you?”
Minutes later, the doctor on call confirmed the technician’s concern. Our baby was gone, lifeless in my womb.
Only two weeks prior, this child was thriving and healthy with a heart beating strong. Now? Silence. Silence shared both on the Doppler and on the excruciating ride home from the hospital that day. Silence as my son was born into the world three days later. Silence as we drove away from the cemetery three days after that. Silence from friends and family as weeks passed and everyone had moved on.
Yet, while the world around me grew silent, my heart, full of emotion and grief, was pounding louder than ever before. I had always said I believed God’s promises, and that regardless of circumstance, Christ was the only thing I needed. I had always claimed that there was nothing greater in life than knowing Jesus and communing with Him through a relationship with God, prayer, and the holy Scriptures. Yet, here I stood at the crossroads of my faith and my circumstances, and I had work to do.
In John 15 Jesus compares Himself to a vine, God as the gardener, and His people as the branches. I love the imagery of who Christ is in this portion of Scripture.
“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, as whatever you wish, and it will be given you. . . As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.”
John 15:4-7, 9
Christ is the True Vine, the vine from which all sustenance comes, and the only source of true nourishment. If there has ever been a time where I craved this true nourishment it was after burying my only son. As I walked away from my son’s grave on that Tuesday morning, anticipating the grief that awaited me, I knew I had a choice. I could wrap myself tightly around the vine, or I could detach and walk my own path. I could cry out to Jesus in my sorrow, or I could let deep sadness and anger push me away from His presence. I could use the imagery in John 15 to spur me toward hope, or I could let my overwhelming sorrow distract me from the unchanging character of God.
God promises that if we remain in Him, even when our circumstances feel unbearable, that He will remain in us. So often in our sorrow we feel that God is distant, yet we see here that God never leaves us alone in our grief. He remains, dear sisters. He remains! As I drove away from the cemetery to resume my new reality—this life with a child heaven-side—I knew, as hard as it was, that I had to remain on the vine.
While God doesn’t promise us an easy life free of sorrow or loss, He does promise that if we choose to remain in Him on the vine, our choice to stay rooted in His love will produce fruit. While we never want our precious babies to die, we can find encouragement knowing that a Kingdom harvest is being worked behind the scenes.
While we would never choose this road on our own, if this is the path God has for us, wouldn’t we be wise to remain to reap the harvest?
My journey through grief was not perfect or tidy, but I am encouraged to know that there is purpose and fruit as a result of my suffering. Some of this fruit I have been able to see over the last four years. Some of this fruit won’t be revealed to me until I enter Jesus’ presence.
Will you attach yourself tightly to the True Vine today?
Will you remain in His love?
Only He can sustain you on this journey from sorrow to joy, ashes to beauty, sweet sisters. And He longs to bring forth bountiful fruit from your grief.
Dear Father, thank You for this picture of life and hope we find in John 15. Thank You for the promise that, when we remain in You, we find power and hope, and will bear fruit regardless of our circumstances. Thank You for the promise of being the one and only True Vine. We love You and praise You for the beautiful fruit that will come from our faithfulness to stay rooted in You. In Jesus name, Amen.
- Brittnie
Hope Mom to Baby A and Chance Michael
Brittnie lives in Sugar Land, Texas and enjoys writing on her blog and other outlets, baking, lingering coffee dates, and soaking in moments with her family. She is a wife to Brandon and a mom to Clara, Camille, and Hope Mom to Baby A (Clara’s twin) and Chance. Psalm 62:1-2 is her go to verse when she needs quick encouragement. She is author of Desert Song, and you can visit with Brittnie at her personal blog, A Joy Renewed, where she shares her faith and family, and encourages her readers to claim joy despite circumstance.
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