Rooted In Christ

May I ask you something? What are you connected to right now? What gives your life meaning, direction, and strength when the days are long or the future feels uncertain? That’s not just a rhetorical question—it’s the very question Jesus answers in our passage today.

Good morning. I greet you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and I want to say what a privilege it is to stand before you today. I am humbled by the trust that has been extended to me, and I am eager to walk this path of faith alongside you. As we begin this new chapter together, I find it fitting that we don’t begin with strategies or schedules, but with Scripture. Not with what we want to do, but with who Christ is.

In John 15, Jesus speaks to His disciples on the night before His crucifixion. They are gathered in the upper room, having just shared the Passover meal. Judas has left to betray Him. The air is thick with tension and sorrow, and the shadow of the cross looms near. Jesus knows exactly what is coming—Gethsemane, arrest, trial, denial, the cross. And He knows what this will mean for His disciples: fear, scattering, confusion. They will feel unmoored and unsure.

And so, in this final intimate conversation, Jesus doesn’t offer a list of action items. He doesn’t map out a strategic plan. Instead, He offers them a picture. Something they could carry in their minds and hearts. Something rooted in the land and language they knew well: "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener."

In ancient Israel, vineyards were everywhere. They were symbols of blessing, fruitfulness, and faithfulness. The vine was often used in Scripture as a metaphor for God’s people. But Jesus reclaims the image. He doesn’t say, "You are the vine." He says, "I am the true vine." He is establishing Himself as the source of life, the center of God’s redemptive plan. And He invites them, and us, not to manage our circumstances, but to remain in Him.

That’s where we begin. Not with me, not with you, but with Him. Because unless we start there, we’ll end up nowhere.

Jesus makes a bold and defining statement: "I am the true vine." This is the last of His seven "I am" statements in the Gospel of John, and it carries the weight of all the others. "I am the bread of life. I am the light of the world. I am the resurrection and the life." And now, "I am the true vine."

Why a vine? Why not a tree or a river or a rock? Because the vine was a familiar symbol to His audience. In the Old Testament, Israel was often referred to as God’s vine. Psalm 80 speaks of God bringing a vine out of Egypt and planting it. Isaiah 5 talks about a vineyard that produced wild grapes. Again and again, the vine represented God’s people. But here, Jesus makes a radical shift. He says, "I am the true vine." Not the nation. Not the law. Not your heritage or your title. Me.

He is saying, "Everything you need, everything you've longed for, finds its fulfillment in Me."

It’s a reminder that life—real life, spiritual life—doesn’t come from belonging to a group or having a religious background. It comes from a Person. Jesus Christ. The true vine.

And so, we must ask: What are we connected to? What are we drawing life from? Success? Reputation? Even ministry itself? If our roots are in anything other than Christ, the fruit will fail.

This brings us to the natural next question: if Christ is the vine, what is our role? What do we do with this truth? Jesus answers it clearly—"Remain in me." Let’s look at what it means to abide.

Eight times in this passage, Jesus uses the word "abide" or "remain." "Remain in me, as I also remain in you." This is not a casual visit. It’s not about checking in with Jesus when it’s convenient. This is about dwelling. Living. Staying put.

In our culture, we move fast. We like speed, results, metrics. But Jesus invites us to slow down. To remain. To stay rooted. To build a life of constant communion with Him.

And this is not passive. It’s not sitting around waiting for something to happen. Abiding is active dependence. It’s ongoing trust. It’s waking up each day and saying, "Lord, apart from you, I can do nothing."

That’s not poetic exaggeration. That’s truth. Jesus says it plainly: "Apart from me, you can do nothing." Not a little. He didn’t say, "you won’t do it as well." He said, ”Nothing”. And until we believe that, we will keep trying to manufacture fruit on our own.

We can plant programs and water ministries and fertilize structures—but if the root isn’t in Christ, the fruit will not last.