What Holds You?

You know what February 15th is? It's the quietest day of the year at the gym. January 1st, you can't find a parking spot. Every treadmill is taken. There's a line for the squat rack because everyone is committed to never skipping leg day! People are grunting with conviction. It’s gross! New shoes. New water bottles. New you. But by February 15th? You could do cartwheels across the weight room floor and not hit a soul. The resolution is over. Enthusiasm burned off.

And if you're anything like me, somewhere in your house right now there is physical evidence of this exact pattern. There's a guitar in a closet that was going to make me a musician. There's a set of dumbbells in a corner that was going to get rid of this keg and get my six-pack back! There's an Etsy shop with a sweet logo that was going to make me an entrepreneur, but it’s not live. There might even be a sourdough starter in the back of someone's fridge that was going to make them a baker. (There’s definitely a sourdough starter in the back of someone's fridge. You know who you are.)

Most of our lives, if we're honest, are a junkyard of unfinished resolutions. Half-read books. Abandoned hobby supplies. Workout plans that made it to day four. Business ideas that lived on a napkin for about a week.

We’re really, really good at starting things. We’re significantly less good at the part that comes after.

And here's what's uncomfortable. This isn't just a productivity or discipline problem. For a lot of us, it's a faith problem too.

Perhaps you’ve seen it. Maybe you've lived it. The retreat that wrecked you in the best way. The Sunday where something cracked open and you were sure things were going to be different. The season where the Bible felt alive and prayer felt real.

And then. Life got hard, or just got normal. And the fire went out. You're not quite sure when it happened. You just know the person who was so fired up doesn't feel like you anymore.

I want to ask you a question today. Not as an accusation. Just an honest diagnostic. When the heat of life comes, what holds you?

We're in week two of Check Your Heart. Last week we looked at the hard path, the heart that's been so wounded and trampled that the seed of the Gospel can't even get in.

This week we move to the second soil. The stony soil. And I want to tell you upfront: this one is closer to home for most of us. Because this isn't the person who rejected Jesus. This is the person who received him. With joy, but didn’t stick.

Open your Bibles to Mark chapter 4 and we’ll read the parable and explanation as we did last week to keep it fresh in our minds.

Mark 4:1–20 NIV

1 Again Jesus began to teach by the lake. The crowd that gathered around him was so large that he got into a boat and sat in it out on the lake, while all the people were along the shore at the water’s edge. 2 He taught them many things by parables, and in his teaching said: 3 “Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed. 4 As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. 5 Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. 6 But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. 7 Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain. 8 Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, some multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times.” 9 Then Jesus said, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.” 10 When he was alone, the Twelve and the others around him asked him about the parables. 11 He told them, “The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables 12 so that, “ ‘they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!’” 13 Then Jesus said to them, “Don’t you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable? 14 The farmer sows the word. 15 Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. 16 Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. 17 But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. 18 Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; 19 but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. 20 Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop—some thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times what was sown.”

Ok, Quick question. Which seed in the parable sprouts first? It’s not the good soil. It’s the stony soil.

The fastest one out of the gate. The most impressive in week one. If you're standing at the edge of that field in early spring you'd point at that patch and say: that one's going to be something.

And you'd be wrong. Because speed isn't the same thing as health.

Here's what was actually happening under the surface. There was no resistance. No depth to push through. Just a clean, fast, unimpeded launch straight toward the sun. It looked like winning, but it wasn't.

If you were a first-century farmer standing at the edge of that field, you would have known exactly what was happening. Any farmer worth his salt knows that rocky ground warms up faster than deep soil. The rocks absorb heat during the day and release it at night. So the seed in the stony soil is sitting in a warm bed while the seed in the good soil is still cold and waiting.

It's not stronger. It's just warmer. It has an environmental advantage that looks like vitality but its actually just circumstance.

The good soil seed is slower because it's doing the harder work. It's pushing through resistance. It's establishing a root system before it worries about what's happening above the surface. It's playing the long game.

And here's the thing about long games. They're boring to watch in the early stages. The stony soil plant is flashy in week one. The good soil plant is quiet. But come August, you know which one is still standing.

Folks, we live in a world that rewards the stony soil sprout. We celebrate fast starts. We platform the loudest voices. We put the most enthusiastic person on the serve team before we even know their name. None of that is wrong exactly. But we have to be careful that we're not mistaking speedy sprouting for enthusiasm for health.

Fast isn't the same as deep. Enthusiastic isn't the same as maturity.

Movement 1: The Fastest Growth Isn't Always the Healthiest

Now that could make us skeptical of enthusiasm, and it shouldn’t. Look back at what Jesus says in verse 16.

Mark 4:16 NIV

16 Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy.

When someone burns hot and fast and then burns out, it’s easy to question their authenticity. We assume the joy was fake. But Jesus doesn’t say that. He doesn't say they performed it. He says they received the word. With joy. Which I take to mean something real happened. The word landed. It moved them. They meant it.

Here’s what I need you to understand. This is not a sermon about hypocrisy. Its a sermon about roots.

And time is the only test that reveals roots!

People can be completely sincere and yet still be shallow. Sincerity is not the same as depth. Enthusiasm is not the same as attachment. You can mean every word of every song you sing on a Sunday morning and still not be rooted in the one you're singing to.

So, the stony soil person isn't necessarily faking it. They could just be in the early joy phase of faith. The joy phase is real. It's a gift. But it's the first chapter, not the whole book.

The question the text is quietly pressing underneath all that joy is the same one I'm asking you today. What happens when the heat comes? When the heat of life comes, what holds you?

Movement 2: The Heat Doesn't Lie

Let’s look back at the text in verse 6:

Mark 4:6 NIV

6 But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.

Eventually the heat of life turns up. The sun came up. That’s life. And the plant that looked like the winner in week one didn't make it. Not because the sun was unusually brutal. Just because it was the sun. Doing what the sun does. Every single day.

Jesus explains it in verse 17.

Mark 4:17 NIV

17 But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away.

I want you to notice two things in that verse.

First, the heat isn't random. Jesus is specific. Trouble and persecution comes on account of the word. This isn't generic hardship. This is the specific friction that comes from following Jesus. The relationship that gets complicated when you start living differently. The workplace that gets uncomfortable when your ethics don't match the culture anymore. The family dinner that gets tense when you won't just go along. The lifestyle changes you now know Jesus is asking you to make.

That's the heat Jesus is talking about. And it's coming.

Second thing.The Greek word Jesus uses for "fall away" looks and sounds a lot like the word scandalized. It means to be tripped up. These folks didn't plan to walk away. They got tripped. There's a rock just below the surface, and they hit it at full speed and went down.

This tells us something crucial: The heat didn't destroy their faith. The heat revealed that the roots weren't there.

Let me make this concrete. I've watched this happen. You probably have too. Someone comes to faith in a season of crisis. A diagnosis. A divorce. A rock-bottom moment. Jesus meets them there, it's genuine, and something actually begins to change. They're in church every week. They're telling everyone what happened to them. And then the crisis passes. Life stabilizes. The urgency fades. Slowly, quietly, attendance gets spotty. The conversations get shallower. The enthusiasm that was so real in the hard season doesn't survive the normal season.

Here's what's heartbreaking about that. It's not that Jesus wasn't real to them, or that the experience was fake. It's that the roots never got established beyond the crisis. Jesus was just a life raft. But they never learned to swim. When the water calmed down, they drifted. Not dramatically, gradually. The way you don't notice the current until you look up and the shore is further away than you expected.

Or flip it the other direction. Someone comes to faith in a season of joy. A wedding. A new baby. A fresh start in a new town. The warmth of the community feels like home. And then the marriage gets hard. Or the new town stops feeling new. Or the baby doesn't sleep and the job is stressful, and Sunday morning feels like one more thing to manage instead of a place to belong. And the scandalization moment isn't a dramatic falling away. It's just drift. Quiet. Gradual. Unplanned.

This is the stony soil. Notice, these hearts Jesus is describing aren't villains. Just people who never got below the surface before the heat came.

Again, the heat didn't destroy their faith. It just revealed that the roots weren't there yet.

Yet. That word matters and we’ll come back to it!

This is the uncomfortable truth about the stony soil. You can be attached to the feeling of faith without being attached to Jesus himself. You can love the warmth of Sunday morning without being rooted in Christ and his people. The feeling is real. The experience is real. But feelings are like weather. They change. They respond to conditions. And when the conditions get hard, feelings alone don't hold. Enthusiasm fades. Roots are what remain.

What has the heat revealed in your life? I don’t ask to shame anyone, just to help locate you. Because Jesus is not writing anyone off in this parable. The stony soil isn't a verdict. It's a diagnosis. And a diagnosis is only bad news if you do nothing with it.

When the heat comes, Church, what holds you? If your honest answer right now is: I'm not sure. Or: I've been running on enthusiasm for a long time and I think it's running out. Stay with me. Because we’re going to get to the solution.

Movement 3: The Root Is Not What You Know. It's Who You're Attached To.

Now, the obvious answer to shallow faith is more information. If you're not going deep enough, go learn more. Study more. Take a class. Fill the hole with knowledge.

And look, I'm a pastor. I love theology. Knowing your Bible matters enormously! But knowledge is not rootedness. Knowledge can deepen rootedness, but the reality is, you can know a tremendous amount about Jesus and still not be attached to him. And you can know very little and be utterly, stubbornly tethered to Him as well!

Because rootedness isn't information. Rootedness is attachment to Jesus.

And attachment is just a stubborn refusal to let go when the feelings fade. It’s deciding that Jesus is your home, not just your hotel. Like Peter… when Jesus says as the crowds begin to leave, Jesus asks do you want to go to, and Peter says, “Lord where else would we go? You have the words of life!”

Rootedness is a stubborn refusal to let go when feelings fade!

Paul agrees. He prays something stunning in Ephesians 3:17. He prays that they would be "rooted and grounded in love." Not rooted in doctrine. Rooted in love. Colossians 2:7 says, "Rooted and built up in him."

And Jesus himself in John 15: "Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me."

Abide. Stay. Remain. Attach.

The branch doesn't produce fruit by trying harder or knowing more about the vine. The branch produces fruit by staying connected to the vine that is already alive, already rooted, already holding.

Here's what that looks like in real life. It's the person who doesn't know much theology but shows up every single week and asks good questions! Lots of questions! Not because they have to, but because these are their people and they belong here.

It's the person who calls someone from their Connect Group at 11pm when things fall apart. Not because they read a book about community, but because they've decided these people are safe and they're staying and they will be known!

It's the person who keeps praying even when prayer feels like talking to the ceiling. Because they're attached to the one they're praying to, and attachment doesn't require feeling it every day.

That's rootedness. Not information. Attachment. Belonging.

This is why we keep saying that real connection happens at a heart level. Actually going there with people isn't a program or a slogan. It's a root system. It’s us saying out loud: you were not designed to do this alone. Some rocks are too big for one person to move. Some stones buried deep in the soil of your heart need more than one pair of hands.

Hebrews 10:24-25 tells us not to neglect meeting together. The writer isn't just giving an attendance rule. He's describing a root system. Your people, the people of God, are part of what holds you. The ones who know your name when things go sideways. The ones who text you on a Tuesday for no reason. That's not optional decoration on top of your faith. That's part of the root structure.

But let me say something to the person who is already in a Connect Group. You're in the circle. You're doing the thing. And somehow you still feel shallow. You know everyone's names. You've eaten their food, been to their home. But you still feel like if you disappeared tomorrow, nobody would really know you. And that might be, because you've answered every question with the version of yourself that's fine or presentable. You've prayed for everyone else's hard things while keeping yours folded up in your pocket. You've been present without being known.

Friend, that's not community. That's proximity. Community is when someone in that circle knows the thing you haven't told anyone. Community is when you've let someone sit with you in the part of your life that isn't fine. Community is when you've been seen at your worst and they showed up anyway.

That's putting down roots. The difference between proximity and belonging is vulnerability. Vulnerability feels like the most dangerous thing in the world to a heart that has been burned before. I get that. But you cannot get the roots without going into the ground. And going into the ground requires letting someone see what's under the surface. The rocks don't move by themselves. You have to let someone help you dig.

This is exactly why we are hosting the Wounded Heart conference on October 16th and 17th.Some of the rocks below your surface are generational wounds, deep lies, and traumas that you cannot pull out on your own. You need tools. You need the Spirit. You need the Church. If you know you have stony soil, getting in the room for that conference is your shovel. Register today.

But let’s get back to my original question: When the heat comes, what holds you?

Movement 4: You Can Go Deeper Right Now

Here's where I want to land. I don't want you to walk out with a guilt trip, thinking: I need to try harder to be more committed. That's just more enthusiasm. We already know where enthusiasm goes when the heat comes. What I want you to walk out with is an invitation.

Mark 4:8 NIV

8 Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, some multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times.”

The good soil exists. Thirty, sixty, a hundredfold. That's abundance. And Jesus doesn't say it was born that way. Good soil is cultivated. Worked. Tended into health. The same field that has a stony patch can also have a good patch. The same heart that has shallow places can grow deep ones.

The diagnosis is not the destination.

Here's the grace in all of this. You don't have to manufacture the roots yourself. You don't have to summon more willpower or resolve to be more disciplined. Because Jesus is not standing at the edge of the field waiting to see if you figure it out.

He is the vine. He is already rooted. He is already holding. He has already survived the worst heat the world could produce. He went to the cross. He stayed there. He didn't wither. He didn't get scandalized by the cost and fall away! He absorbed it. And he came out the other side. Rooted. Alive. Holding.

And now he says to you: abide in me.

Not perform for me. Not impress me. Abide. Stay no matter what! Attach yourself to the one who already held when it mattered most.

Folks, this is what rootedness looks like: It's a decision, not a feeling. It's showing up to your Connect Group even when you're tired. It's letting someone ask you the real question and actually answering it honestly. It's praying with someone, not just for them. It's telling someone in this room: I'm struggling and I need you. It's coming back on a Sunday when you don't feel like it, because you've decided these are your people and that doesn't change based on how you feel. It's saying to Jesus in the quiet of an ordinary Tuesday: I don't feel much right now but I'm staying and I’m asking you to help me. It’s organizing your schedule around Jesus and His people not fitting it in when it’s just convenient!

That's what roots look like. They’re not dramatic or loud. Just attached. Just staying.

The reality is, heat is coming. For some of you it's already here. The sun is scorching and you're wondering whether your faith is going to make it through this season.

Hear this: The heat didn't come to destroy you. It came to show you what's there. And if it's revealing that the roots are thin, in Jesus and by His grace, that’s not condemnation. It’s an invitation. You can go deeper right now. Not next season. Not after things calm down. Right now. In the middle of the heat. Roots don't only grow in easy seasons.

So let me ask you one last time. When the heat comes, what holds you?

It’s not your enthusiasm. It’s not your good intentions. It’s not how fired up you were at the last retreat.

Christ. It’s Jesus. He is what holds you. His people hold you.

Rootedness, Church, doesn’t require your strength or will power, it just requires that you stay, you remain! You attach yourself to the vine and let His roots hold you!

Enthusiasm fades. Roots remain.

Jesus, help us root ourselves in you!

Let's pray.