Trust Me
The gentle, painful work of God’s pruning.
The Shaking
This morning I walked past a majestic linden tree in my yard and found its fallen branches scattered like quiet testimony after a storm. The sight stayed with me: the wind had done what seasons and care sometimes cannot—it had stripped away what was dead, leaving the living trunk and the deep, hidden roots. As I stood there, the Holy Spirit pressed a simple truth into my heart: sometimes God allows a shaking so life can be healthier, not harmed. I am in that shaking!
The Linden Tree
This linden tree has always been my favorite. During the summer months it is so beautiful with its spring fragrance and its full canopy of generous leaves reflecting many shades and hues of green. It gracefully displays pretty little white, perfume like flowers. It is truly a magnificent creation of God.
However, after a massive windstorm, the ground was littered with brittle limbs that no longer served the tree. I realized that they were not part of its strength; they were weight and risk. What initially looked like destruction I realized was actually the opposite. The storm did not aim to destroy the tree but to remove what would otherwise rot and invite disease. As I reflected upon my current season of grief and loss, I felt that same gentle, painful wisdom in my spirit—pruning is not punishment but preparation.
The Lesson of Roots
What comforted me most was how firmly the tree still stood. Its roots are unseen, buried deep, anchoring it through the sudden gusts. I found myself whispering a tear filled prayer thanking the Lord for keeping my roots strong during my time of pain and uncertainty. I thought of lives that look fine on the surface until a strong wind comes; those with shallow roots topple quickly. Yet the person who has spent years growing in the truth of God’s Word—who has been watered by prayer, repentance, and faithful obedience—this is the child of God who will stand when the gale force comes, which surely, they will. I genuinely prayed, “Lord, I never want to topple; be the strength of my life; secure my roots in You.”
Albeit it painful, I am beginning to accept the truth that shaking is meant to remove dead weight so my roots can go deeper, and my trunk can grow stronger. While necessary, this shaking does not minimize the pain that comes from loss. Even so, I thank the Lord for holding me steady even when I feel like my root structure is severely challenged. He simply reminded me: Shallow roots break; deep roots endure.
Finding Solace
Jesus spoke to the storm and said, “Peace, be still.” (Mark 4:39). That same trustworthy voice speaks to our hearts when life’s winds roar. Jeremiah reminds us that the one who trusts the Lord will be like a tree planted by water, whose roots reach deep and who does not fear heat or drought. (Jeremiah 17:7–8).
When I feel frightened by the intensity of the winds coming against me, I return to this promise: the same Jesus who entered the storm with His friends is with me now. He came to Daniel in the lions’ den and stood with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fire—He is not distant from our trials; He is present in them. Somedays I “feel” this truth and other days I simply must believe even when I am sitting among life’s broken limbs and scattered branches.
In reflecting I believe the wind’s work is surgical. It takes what is dead, what clings out of habit or fear, and it exposes what must be tended. This pruning feels like deep loss, yet it is this very pruning that often frees our branches to bear new fruit.
This exposure is painful, yes, but it’s also clarifying. I am learning what to nourish and what to let go of. It is not easy. Letting go challenges familiarity, comfort, security and truly calls one to dig deep. The ask of God, “Do you trust Me?” suddenly becomes a declarative: “Trust Me.”
Trust involves an unwavering belief in the integrity, ability, and proven character of the one asking. In the shaking of life, the Father is asking me, asking you, to place all confidence and reliance on Him and His proven faithfulness. To remember that He is in the shaking wind and He is also the peace in the storm.
If like me, you find your branches breaking or your heart bending under grief, remember the roots God has been growing in you. They are the work of years—quiet, unseen, steady. The wind will come; it will test and it will clear. Take courage though in knowing that the presence of Jesus does not change. He speaks peace into the storm, He walks with us in the fire, and He steadies our roots so we can stand. Let the shaking do its work: it is not the end but the making of a stronger, deeper life for the Lord.
When the wind strips away the dead, trust the roots God has planted—He is standing with you.
