This devotional received recognition in the 2026 Writer’s Digest Competition, and I’m grateful for the encouragement it brought. I’m sharing it here in hopes that its message blesses someone today.
I was walking back to my desk from the office kitchen, balancing my coffee, when I noticed how the sunlight spilled across the front window. I stopped to enjoy the moment as the pale yellow danced on the blooms of the rose bushes. It was then I noticed red in the pink. Outside, the Knock-Out rose bushes were heavy with pale pink blooms, weighty branches pulled to the ground. Bees drifted lazily from flower to flower, doing their quiet work.
Something unusual had caught my eye: a cluster of deep red roses near the bottom of the middle bush. One branch, unlike all the others, held only red blooms.
I stepped closer. Why is this one different?
Curiosity won. I went outside for a better look, then hurried back in and started searching for answers. I learned that this kind of unexpected offshoot is called a “sport,” a natural genetic variation where a single branch expresses something new: a different color, shape, or trait. Nectarines came from a peach sport. The variation of Ruby red grapefruit came from a sport. It’s unknown why a plant, bush or tree decides to produce a sport. It is a small mutation that changes the expression of the fruit or flower, even though the branch is still fully connected to the same root.
That red branch stayed with me all day. It made me think about how often Scripture uses horticulture to teach spiritual truth, especially Jesus’ image of the vine and the branches.
In viticulture, the study and cultivation of grapes, grafting is a common practice. A branch called a scion is cut from its original plant and joined to a strong, established rootstock. Cut from its original plant, the scion no longer has a source of nutrients. But when it is joined to the rootstock, the two become one living plant. The scion draws all its strength, nutrients, and stability from the root. Without being grafted to a strong root, it cannot survive, much less bear fruit.
Interestingly, growers rarely graft a scion from the same variety onto a rootstock. They intentionally choose something different, a grape that brings its own flavor, color, or harvest qualities. The rootstock provides strength and disease resistance; the scion contributes its distinct expression of fruit. The goal is not uniformity. It is fruitfulness.
One strong root supporting many different branches, each bearing the fruit it was created to produce.
Isn’t that a picture of the Body of Christ?
Jesus used this imagery to show that spiritual life does not come from striving but from abiding, staying connected to Him. Apart from Him, we wither. With Him, we flourish. Paul later expanded the metaphor, describing how God grafts people into His family through Christ. He wrote that God “predestined us for adoption”, a reminder that belonging begins with Him, not with our performance.
But what does abiding mean?
It is not a checklist of things that we must do or a set of spiritual achievements. Abiding is maintaining a connection or relationship with Jesus through prayer and study of the Bible. It is learning to depend on Him for spiritual sustenance and persistent faith. We learn to be obedient and to trust Him.
Abiding is not about our works or efforts. It is about orientation, the daily decision to remain where life is found. Just as a branch does not strain to stay attached to the vine, we do not have to force our connection to Christ. We simply stay close. Stay open. Stay yielded. His life flows through us as naturally as sap through a branch, producing fruit we could never manufacture on our own.
Standing at that window, I saw it in the roses. The red branch was fully connected to the same root as the pink ones. It drew the same life, the same strength, the same nourishment. Yet it expressed something different, not wrong or broken, just distinct.
Unity is in the root, not in the color of the bloom.
This is where the miracle lies. In a world that often demands sameness, Christ never does. He welcomes all. He binds us to Himself without erasing what makes us distinct. The early church was a mosaic of backgrounds and languages, yet all were drawn into one life-giving Root. Their differences did not weaken the vine. They enriched it.
God has always been gathering His people from every corner of humanity. His desire is not to flatten us into uniformity but to redeem the beauty He placed in us from the beginning. When we are grafted into Christ, we do not lose our uniqueness. We discover its purpose. Our differences become expressions of God’s creativity and beauty.
This is the miracle of belonging in Christ. He does not gather people to judge them. He gathers them to heal what has been broken. Jesus said He came “not to condemn the world but to save it,” and that is still true today. His invitation is wide enough for every story and every kind of person.
We do not sustain ourselves. We do not generate our own spiritual life. We do not hold ourselves in place.
It is Christ, the Root, who sustains us. Even when we feel different. Even when we do not match the branches around us. Even when we wonder whether we truly belong.
When I step back and look at the whole rose bush, pink and red together, one plant, one root, I see a picture of the Body of Christ. Diverse. Unexpected. Beautiful.
And I hear the invitation again, quiet and steady:
Abide in me.
Typist for Jesus
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