I have a rubber tree that is taller than my 5’6-foot frame. It branches out several feet in either direction. During fall, when the temperatures start steadily dipping to 50 degrees or below, we bring it inside.
It takes a dolly to move it, and because it is so heavy, we twist and turn the base of the heavy planter into place. My husband bears the weight and I try to navigate the branches full of leaves inside the house without snapping a branch.
We then place it near its indoor resting corner by the front window for optimal sunlight. There the tree will stay until it’s warm enough in the spring evenings to once again, repeat the process to go back to its designated spot on the front porch.
We’ve been doing this for at least the last 20 years or so. When I first got the plant, it was only a foot high in a little planter I got from the local grocery store. I didn’t know then the life cycle or the growth potential of my little plant. I just loved how healthy and lovely the plant looked at the time.
It didn’t always grow that way. In fact, one year, it had lost all its leaves and was nothing but a stumpy looking, forlorn stick in a small ceramic planter. That season, I gave up on it. I figured that I must have killed it, or maybe one of our dogs had been sabotaging it while I wasn’t looking.
Either way, it looked dead. So that fall season, after doing our fall clean up outside, I had moved all my empty planters around to the side of our house sheltered by a lattice fence ladened with ivy. I covered those pots and this stick with a tarp to protect them from the cold wind and snow that Ohio winters are known for, and promptly forgot about it.
Spring came, and in May I began unearthing my pots from the tarp on the side of the house. To my surprise, the little stick had signs of life. There were little shoots starting to form branches and grow off this stick. By the end of June there were fresh new rubber plant leaves all over. It never again stayed that small, but continued year after year to grow and thrive much to my husband’s chagrin. I’ve lost count of how many times I had to re-pot it.
When we moved to North Carolina, that tree survived the 7-hour truck drive. I honestly have furniture that didn’t do as well as that tree! It has survived being knocked down by high winds, and sometimes too long between watering, and yet its thriving. I am hoping that it will make it to our next move someday to our forever home.
You might wonder why I’ve spent so much time waxing on this plant. Recently, in praying for other people, I’ve had numerous times where God shows me a picture of a tree, barren almost, but planted by the water. In the Bible, it says in Jeremiah 7:7-8 (NLT):
“But blessed are those who trust in the Lord
and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.
They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat
or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
and they never stop producing fruit.”
So many times, we (me included) feel like we are these barren trees or sticks left in a pot. We work hard and often feel like we have nothing to show for it. Despite, our care, our perseverance, and long seasons in between.
Yet God reminds me in this vivid picture, that if we are planted by and living in his living water, then we are more than ok.
As trees go dormant in certain seasons, they do not stop growing. Instead, they grow more underneath the ground, getting stronger inwardly, as their roots grow deeper still. They do not worry about heat or drought; they still produce green leaves and never stop producing fruit.
The Lord reminded me that no matter the inherent barrenness we might see without leaves or fruit, God is always at work. Even if we don’t see it, God already knows our life cycles and our potential growth.
When God is at work, and the tree (that’s us) continues to live with intentionality, positioned to live for God, live in his presence, and live by his word, then it will always be growing in some way. For those trees (for us), the harvest always comes.
My hope and confidence are in the Lord. And my rubber tree is a constant reminder of his promises.
What is your reminder?
