The 🔔 Jar | Rotten Figs & Poisoned Roots
⚠️TRIGGER WARNING: Depression⚠️
I sat at the foot of the tree, agonizing over what to pick; who to be.
One decision felt like a death sentence; final, resolute, and unchanging.
Whichever one I chose would change the course of my life forever, and I couldn't handle the consequences.
The fear of becoming one sole thing and missing out on what I could be chained me tighter to the base,
pinning down my arms till I was unable to reach for even the lowest-hanging fruit.
I was stuck, hopeless.
I watched as chances and opportunities rotted before me, slowly decomposing as if to mock my ever-looming indecision…
I dreaded the future and what it held for me now.
All the ripest, juiciest figs seemed either out of reach or too far gone.
This tree was as good as dead, or so I thought.
I poisoned the roots with disbelief; in myself and my ability to follow through.
I couldn't choose, I thought, because what if I failed? And if I failed, what decent figs would be left for me?
Since I'd end up disappointing everyone in the end - including myself - I’d just let them all rot.
What was the point?
Each of those thoughts fell on the soil like drops of acid rain.
I began to water the tree with my toxic tears and fixation on failure.
Now hundreds of figs were shriveling on the vine, sucked dry of any potential for life.
I had no options left.
Radiation melded my body into the trunk, and I became a part of the mess I made -
A cursed creation of the worst parts of myself; A monster as rotten as the figs I could have eaten.
I chose this deformed state by not choosing: The less I chose, the less I became.
Hope seemed lost, but my story wasn't over:
This was the beginning of my restoration.
Jesus, The Vinedresser, tended to my roots. He laid a new foundation.
He cultivated the soil so that it was healthy, ready for new growth.
My roots grew deep into it, soaking up every ounce of nutrients available.
With His nourishment, those brittle branches began to blossom, and new figs were blooming and teeming with life.
As the trunk bark softened and gained back its luster, I was freed from its cage and able to pick whichever fig I wanted.
And this time, He’d guide me to the best ones.
...
“Unless the Lord had helped me, I would soon have settled in the silence of the grave. I cried out, “I am slipping!” but your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me. When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.”
Psalms 94:17-19 NLT
““But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit.”
Jeremiah 17:7-8 NLT
““I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more.”
John 15:1-2 NLT
…
#rootedinchrist #embracevulnerability #thebelljar #readeroflemon8 #bookclub
That feeling of standing before a tree laden with options, yet feeling utterly paralyzed, is something I know all too well. It's like Sylvia Plath's Esther Greenwood, staring at those magnificent figs, each representing a dream, a path, a potential future. But instead of reaching out, we watch them, in agonizing slow motion, shrivel and turn into those dreaded 'rotten figs.' For me, it wasn’t just about making a big life decision; it was about the daily choices that compounded, creating this overwhelming sense of stagnation. I remember days when even the simplest decisions felt monumental. Should I pursue X or Y? What if one choice meant permanently closing the door on another, equally appealing possibility? This fear of 'what if' became my personal poison, seeping into the roots of my self-belief. I'd sketch out my feelings in a notebook, sometimes drawing those very 'pink figs' in various states – vibrant, wilting, and eventually, a 'black, rotten fig' at the bottom of the page, mirroring my internal landscape. It was a stark visual representation of my 'missed opportunities.' It's easy to get trapped in that cycle, where indecision breeds regret, and regret fuels further paralysis. The weight of 'life choices' starts to feel crushing. One thing I learned on my journey, even before fully embracing the spiritual guidance that eventually pulled me through, was the power of acknowledging that paralysis. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to not know. What’s not okay is letting that fear define your potential entirely. Breaking free from the 'fig tree' dilemma often starts with small, deliberate steps. For me, it was literally about taking a pen to a blank 'notebook page' and mapping out not just the options, but the underlying fears associated with each. Why did certain figs feel 'poisoned'? What was the worst-case scenario, and was it truly as catastrophic as my mind made it out to be? Sometimes, just externalizing these internal battles, putting them down next to my 'hand-drawn pink figs,' made them less intimidating. Another crucial step was understanding that not every choice is final, and even 'rotten figs' can teach you something valuable about what you truly desire or what you want to avoid. It’s about cultivating self-compassion during those moments of intense vulnerability. You're not alone in feeling this way; countless others, including fictional characters like Esther, have grappled with the same existential dread. Sometimes, the bravest choice is to choose *something*, even if imperfect, to break the cycle of inaction. And remember, new figs can always grow on a tended vine.
