A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. Isaiah 11:1
Once more a remnant of the kingdom of Judah will take root below and bear fruit above. Isaiah 37:31

Driving around my town at this time of year reminds me that I now live in a place where the seasonal change is more pronounced and the visual effect is more distinct. We are now in the beginnings of winter and the vegetation seems to understand that this is a time of transition. I enjoy the colder weather and the colors of the trees that accompany autumn, but as the leaves begin to fall and the branches are more and more exposed there is a far less spectacular image that begins to form. It is stark, grey, desolate and lifeless. It can seem like the stump of which Isaiah the prophet spoke. The brilliant colors and beauty that characterized the previous season have given way to something less hospitable and warm. Winter can seem so barren and devoid of life that being inside with a warm fire burning in the fireplace seems appropriate. Winter is a definite change.

But winter affords me a pause to attend to and experience a different place of life and beauty. It is a beauty and life that lies dormant beneath the surface of the soil, beneath the top layer of life; a place where things lay hidden, remote and at times more obscure. Whereas autumn, in all its brilliant color and beauty, is loud and demonstrative, winter is quiet and understated. It doesn’t necessarily immediately capture your attention, but invites you to seek more, to seek further, a different kind and depth of beauty and life.

Isaiah the prophet seemed to understand that for fruitfulness to be experienced above the ground there needed to be adequate rootedness below the surface of the ground. Roots can be, at times, the “unsung hero” of the tree. They exist in a place seldom seen or heard. They are in the hidden space withdrawn from the public eye and public recognition. Yet rootedness precedes fruitfulness, In the spring we talk about the blossoms blooming on the branches of the trees. In the fall we speak of the spectacular colors of the leaves. But few observers are looking for and commenting on the intricate root systems that remain unseen. Yet the roots are always supporting from beneath what is displayed above the surface of the soil. Healthy roots are essential to healthy fruit and, at least in that regard, have a beauty all their own.

The thing about the barren limbs of winter is that they force my eye to search for that deeper beauty by removing the beauty that is so easily accessible in spring and autumn. All the energy of the tree previously devoted to blossoms and leaves is now directed to things unseen, deeper and essential to life beneath the surface of the soil. The source of beauty and wonder are found in things that, at first, seem less accessible, beautiful or spectacular. Roots in fact can seem mundane when compared to the colors appreciated in blossoms and leaves.

The winter displayed in barren trees and grey skies can be a mirror of my soul reflecting the barren and dormant aspects of my life. These are the places I would just as soon escape rather than experience. But they provide an opportunity to look deeper, look longer, and discover the beautiful work God is doing beneath the surface of my life, in those interior and hidden spaces. These deep, interior places are the very contexts in which healthy roots need to be developed and nurtured. When I choose to escape the barrenness or desolation of circumstances I lose the valuable chance to move inward and attend to the health of the roots of my life essential for continued fruitfulness, the roots deeply immersed in the soil of Jesus and His life.

So, winter offers to me the pause from the external place of beauty, easily accessible to my senses, that I might discover and cultivate the hidden, deeper beauty of roots well nourished in the soil of God. Remaining faithful to nurture the deep roots of relationship with Jesus results in a fruitfulness that is reflective of Him. Though at times above ground the trees limbs seem desolate, God invites me to join Him in the work beneath the surface of my life that He is accomplishing for His glory. There is a wealth of relationship to be uncovered and experienced in the place seldom seen. There is good fruit to be expected as a result of well-formed and well-tended roots. It is an additional by-product of moving toward the interior and discovering that new place of hidden beauty where God is still at work. It is a place of hopefulness, looking forward to the coming of something new and better.

As you consider this season of Advent, hopefulness abounds as well. Something of great beauty is to be discovered in the present time of waiting, which will, in the time of fulfillment, bear a fruit more beautiful than can be imagined. All of creation waits with expectation for the Messiah, God’s Son, to restore and renew all life. Advent provides a winter’s pause to seek the deeper places of beauty and transformation God has for us to experience in preparation for the fulfillment to be realized at the coming of Christ.

My hope is that you will take advantage of the pause that winter and Advent afford, and move beneath the surface to the interior of your life and there tend to the roots of relationship with God. I know it will be easy to fill in all the space created with a myriad of holiday and seasonal external activity. But take a moment or two to watch for the beauty found in God’s work of transformation beneath the surface of your life. Then, I suggest you engage in a practice of reading and reflecting on the various accounts of the Christmas story found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. These speak and remind us of the coming, joyous fulfillment found in the person of Jesus Christ. As you engage in this practice I believe you will see that winter is not wasted, but filled with all the hidden and hopeful work of God, beautiful to behold for those who will pause to see.