Getting rooted: Because commitment is not a 4-letter word

Getting rooted: Because commitment is not a 4-letter word

Do you ever feel like you’re being pulled in a hundred different directions?

I don’t know about you, but these days I sometimes find it hard to focus on any one thing in particular. We live in a culture of endless browse mode, one that tells us that life is best lived if we’re constantly chasing the next new option, the next fresh find, the next even-better thing.

The FOMO pull of whatever else is out there can be really hard to resist.

It’s like we’re standing in an infinite hallway full of doors, each one a new possibility. At least that’s how author Pete Davis describes it in his book Dedicated: The Case for Commitment in an Age of Infinite Browsing. Last May, I led a book discussion here at church based on Pete’s book, and I found it deeply compelling—so much so that it’s inspired our focus this fall.

Pete argues that we can spend a lifetime running down the hallway, darting in and out of those doors without ever really making a commitment to any of them. We call it freedom, and freedom is a nice word. It sounds good. It sounds like we aren’t locked into one job, one place, one relationship, anything we might outgrow.

But a life with unlimited options has a shadow side: it creates a culture of shallow engagement. When we never stop chasing the next best thing, we never get rooted in the things that matter most.

It’s hard to grow anything worthwhile without putting down some roots.

I think sometimes we believe commitment is a 4-letter word.

We talk about commitment like it’s a restriction that might keep us from evolving, changing, or becoming the person we want to be.

But without commitment, we never get to experience the act of building something meaningful. Most of the things our society finds truly valuable take time, effort, and dedication to build, from elaborate traditional spaces like the church to things as simple as your favorite walking path in a local park. In order for these things to exist, someone had to dedicate a lot of time to their creation. And someone had to commit to staying and making sure they continue to thrive.

It turns out that freedom without commitment can also be freedom without fulfillment.

Jeremiah 29:5–7 reads: “Build houses and live in them… plant gardens and eat what they produce… seek the welfare of the city.”

God’s instruction to exiles is startlingly practical: “Stop looking/hoping/waiting for something better, something perfect, more like you wish it was… put down roots where you are.”

We live in a culture of exhaustion, of always moving, and sometimes I think we’re afraid to settle down. We’re afraid to say “This is my community. I belong here.” But when we do—when we put down roots where we are like Jeremiah suggests—we create the kind of solid foundation that can hold a truly meaningful, deep, and joyful life.

This fall, my hope is that we’ll explore the idea of commitment together with open hearts and curious minds. 

We’ll think about how often we talk about freedom as the choice to go,  without considering the freedom we might find in the choices we make to stay. And we’ll talk about what it means to say no to the infinite hallway of doors in favor of investing our hearts, talents, dreams, and lives in the things that matter most.

We may wind up with fewer options. But we may also find ourselves getting rooted in what we’ve been missing all along: the opportunity to build something real.

I think that’s what Jeremiah is talking about. He invites us: “Hey. Think about the place you are. You’re here. You’re now. What if, instead of living in the future or the past, you invest in this moment? What if you commit to this place? What if you root down right here where you’re planted?”

Maybe, just maybe, something beautiful will grow.

I hope you’ll join us Sunday mornings this fall as we practice Getting Rooted in the commitments that give us life.

And don’t forget to save the date for Rally Day, Sept 13. This year, we’re calling it ReRooting Day, and it simply won’t be the same without you and your family.