We often judge the value of a life by the vibrancy of its leaves. When I lived up north, we had an apple tree that, by all outward appearances, was a lost cause. It looked sad, sick, and quite frankly, terrible. For two years, it stood there as a withered monument to death and decay. I was convinced it was dying, and I decided it was time to clear the ground for something new.

I borrowed a neighbour’s truck and hooked a heavy chain to the hitch. Because it wasn’t a very large tree, I expected it to pop out of the earth with not much of an effort. Instead, the truck strained and the tires squealed. I became genuinely afraid I would pull the bumper right off the truck. The tree refused to give. It was firmly rooted, defying my assessment of its health.

This reminds me of a story found in the Gospel of Luke. The owner of a vineyard wanted to cut down an unfruitful tree. His gardener, however, pleaded for the failing tree:

“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilise it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down’” (Luke 13:8-9).

In that parable, the owner of the vineyard saw only the lack of fruit, but the gardener saw the potential for a breakthrough if given more time and care. My apple tree was living out its own version of that story. While I was looking at the dry-like branches and reaching for a chain, the tree had been spending its energy where it mattered most: downward.

In our spiritual lives, we often go through “northern winters”—seasons where we feel unproductive, brittle, and unattractive to the world. We might even feel the “tug” of circumstances trying to uproot us, suggesting that our time is over or that we are no longer useful. But like that apple tree, if we are “rooted and built up in him” (Col. 2:7), the pull of the world will fail every time. The struggle you are facing today may actually be the proof of your stability.

Because the tree resisted the pull, I actually gave up and left it alone. To my utter surprise, the very next year, that “dying” tree flourished. It wasn’t just healthy; it was loaded with a crop of apples so heavy the branches bowed under the weight.

There’s a great lesson there for all of us. God is a God of the “one more year.” He sees the strength of the root when we see only the sadness of the branch. If you feel as though you are in a season of drought or that the chains of life are pulling at you, remember the apple tree. The pressure you feel is not a sign of your end, but a testament to how firmly the Lord has planted you. Stay rooted my friend. The harvest is coming.