From the Editor of Gritty Faith: Rooted

In my yard, there is a massive maple tree. If I had to guess, it is no less than a hundred years old. To be honest, I know very little about trees, but a quick Google search tells me
maples easily live to be 100 to 300 years old and this one here reminds me of a 100-year-old lady I once knew. She was strong yet sweet. Confident yet kind. Mighty yet beautiful. She had lived a lot of life in her years and she had the stories and scars to prove it.

One day at church, she could see I was struggling. Overwhelm was overtaking me as I rocked my little guy to sleep in the pew. The worry was heavy in my heart as the congregation prayed for his health yet again. After the service she came up to me, looked me square in the eyes, and said, “You’re a good mother and he is strong. He will get through this. He is tough like me. I know it.” Her eyes locked into mine, ensuring I understood her message as she gently stroked my son’s foot with her “good arm,” while cradling her “bad arm,” a consequence of polio at a young age.

I never knew anyone quite like her. She was fierce. She was strong. She carried a certainty in her words that felt like truth. To know that she was praying on behalf of my
little boy felt like he had the General fighting the war on his behalf. She was a prayer warrior unlike anyone I had ever seen. I leaned on her conviction, borrowing her faith
as evidence of God’s goodness until I could see it for myself.

Today, that massive maple casts a shadow on the yard where that same little boy now tosses a football around. He climbs the mighty branches of the tree, reaching heights that give me new worries. He takes interest in the creatures who call the tree home, constantly taking note of new bugs and critters that live there. My friend was right; my son made it through.

Her faith ran deep because her roots were deep. She had been through countless battles throughout her lifetime. For every heartbreak, loss, disappointment, and struggle
she faced, the roots of her faith grew deeper as she was also able to see God’s mercy, grace, and love. She had built an extensive network of roots within, proof of God’s goodness that stabilized her as the storms of life blew around her.

I don’t know what the root system of my huge maple tree looks like, but I imagine it to be the same as the root system of faith within my friend—reaching deep and wide.
Every chance encounter, every meaningful conversation, every moment of connection adds to the vast network, strengthening the foundation to grow upon.

Throughout this edition, you’ll find reminders of how your
own life is rooted in your faith, your family, your friendships,
and your community. May our roots run deep.