The Sacred Work of Staying

Day 86

Deuteronomy 19–20 | John 15:1–17

“Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself… neither can you, unless you abide in Me.” (John 15:4)

I’m good at producing. Addicted to outcomes. Drawn to metrics. Movement. Measurable results. It’s why I’m so good at my job.

But Jesus doesn’t start there. He starts with a command that sounds passive:

“Abide.”

Stay. Remain. Dwell.

Not go.

Not build.

Not fix.

Not even serve.

Just stay.

The Counterintuitive Command

It feels insufficient.

So much of the Christian life can feel like striving—trying to live faithfully, serve sacrificially, grow spiritually, bear fruit.

But Jesus doesn’t say, “Bear fruit and prove you belong.”

He says, “Abide in Me.”

“Apart from Me, you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

That’s not poetry. That’s reality.

Apart from Him, there’s no lasting growth.

No spiritual power.

No fruit that matters.

Only performance without presence.

Because Jesus isn’t interested in what can be accomplished apart from Him.

He’s interested in what’s formed by remaining in Him.

The Work Beneath the Work

This has been a pruning season for me.

Some branches trimmed with care. Others cut deeply. And in my case—quite literally. Those two fingers on my right hand didn’t survive the pruning shears and had to be replanted.

And in that process, it’s tempting to reach for activity—to prove usefulness. To feel productive again. To do something.

But Jesus doesn’t invite action.

He invites communion.

“Abide in My love.” (John 15:9)

That’s not a call to spiritual drift. It’s a summons to intentional nearness.

Not just to believe He loves, but to remain in that love.

To rest in it.

To root in it.

To let every other part of life grow out of it.

Abiding Isn’t Passive

It may sound like doing nothing. But it’s the hardest kind of obedience:

  • To stay when it would be easier to run.
  • To root deeply when waiting feels like wasting.
  • To trust the Vine when the fruit is yet unseen.

That’s not inactivity. That’s spiritual tenacity.

Because staying is trusting.

And trusting is worship.

And worship never returns empty.

What Abiding Produces

Jesus doesn’t call for striving—He promises results:

  • Fruit that glorifies the Father (v. 8)
  • Prayers aligned with His will (v. 7)
  • Love that mirrors His (v. 12)
  • Joy that’s full, not fleeting (v. 11)
  • The unmistakable mark of true discipleship (v. 8)

But none of it begins with effort.

It begins with abiding.

The branch bears fruit because it stays. Because it draws life from the Vine. Because it trusts the One who tends and prunes and promises to finish what He started.

So I’ll stay.

When the path feels unproductive.

When I can’t see the fruit.

When everything in me wants to sprint ahead or scramble for control.

I’ll stay.

Not because I’m strong. But because I’m His.

Not to prove anything. But because abiding is where life begins.

And because the Vine is worthy of my trust.

Lord, I want to bear fruit—but more than that, I want to remain in You. Teach me to stay when everything in me wants to move. Anchor me in Your love. Remind me that obedience flows from intimacy, not insecurity. And let any fruit that comes from my life bring You glory—not me. Amen.


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Comments

2 responses to “The Sacred Work of Staying”

  1. Kirsten

    Your posts always invoke a wow moment. I’ve been struggling with my job the last few months. Not because it’s hard. But because the hard work I’ve put into it over the last few years seems to be disintegrating. The fantastic momentum that’s the culmination of years of work has stopped, and it feels to me like it’s moving backwards. It’s frustrating. Truthfully, it’s frightening. I haven’t had a good nights sleep in months. I’m in the beginning stages of a transition to a new company. I thought all the results of my hard work would simply transfer. And I would be able to continue to help people in the way I’ve become accustomed to. Making it easy for them to do business with my company. That’s been my goal. And I’ve accomplished, even surpassed, that goal. But now. I’m not so sure. I’m afraid the powers above me in the new company don’t have a good understanding of what needs to be done to be successful. I know what needs to be done. I’ve lived it. I’ve experienced it. I’ve conquered it. I created the tools in the toolbox of success! I’ve found the answer! But alas, I don’t think they see it that way. How crushing. And once again, how enlightening. I don’t have all the answers? Well.

    What does any of this have to do with your post? I realized today- a revelation, if you will- that even though the new company might trash the tools I’ve worked so hard to create, the people who need the tools still have me. And if I sit back and be still -abide -I can recreate the tools. In a new environment. A new toolbox. A new guide to success. It’s scary and daunting. Why do I have to start over? But I’m still there. I’m still the best tool, no matter what else I create for their use. I’m still there to help them. To build what they need to be successful. So I’m not starting over. I’m starting in a new direction, under new direction, still working to provide the tools others need. That’s the wow moment. I can just sit back, reflect on what I’ve accomplished, sharpen my pencil, and pivot.

    When I was pregnant and “nesting,” I bought a print to hang in the nursery. “In the Quiet.” I’ve had so many moments since then – 22 years ago – when it hits me in the face and I realize why I bought it. God knew I would need it. Many, many times. The print looks like this:

    “In the Quiet”
    “It is in quiet obedience that we follow His footsteps.”
    “It is in quiet reflection that we hear His voice.”
    “It is in quiet assurance that we find His rest.”
    “It is in quiet labor that we do His work.”
    “It is in quiet trust that we find His strength.”

    So, instead of outrage and self-righteous anger that everything I’ve worked to achieve is disintegrating, I think I’ll simply abide. I’ll wait. I’ll watch. I’ll pray. I’ll try (oh how I try) to give up control, to surrender to God, to be Quiet. To find another path where God’s river leads. To be thankful I have the tools to begin again. To find a new way to be useful. To just abide, and know that trust will always persevere.

    1. Grant

      Kirsten, this is powerful. That wow moment you described—realizing you’re still the best tool, no matter the changes—that’s huge. Abiding instead of striving. Trusting instead of controlling. You’re right—starting in a new direction isn’t starting over.

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