Every time I thought I had exhausted His grace, He poured out more. His relentless love found me right where I was–in the hidden basement I thought was too messy and too broken. And in His love, He offered me freedom. That’s the relentless love of Christmas.
Abiding in the True Vine was my lifeline, and disconnection meant a slow death.
As years went on, my circumstances shifted. Sometimes they were better, other times they were worse, but time with Him was non-negotiable. I have learned and am continuing to learn that abiding in Him has different iterations.
She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t beautiful.
The vines looked stripped and sparse. Piles of leafy cuttings lay in brittle heaps at their feet. Every twist, every wire, every bare stem was exposed.
And in that moment, the Holy Spirit whispered: This is what abiding looks like, too.
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