Planted by Grace (Rooted in Discipleship Series)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGAdE1-6lwM

Rev. Jefferson Furtado offered this pre-recorded sermon while he traveled to Brazil to care for his parents.

Sermon Text: Psalm 1; John 15:1–8

“They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season.” — Psalm 1:3

There’s something quietly beautiful about a tree that didn’t plant itself.

No tree ever chose its soil; no vine ever rooted itself in the ground. It was placed there—by a gardener’s hand, a bird that scattered a seed, a gust of wind that carried it across a field.

This is how the psalmist begins the whole book of Psalms—offering a vision not of ceaseless labor, but of fruitfulness rooted in grace. The blessed life, the psalm says, begins not in motion but in meditation—not in achievement but in abiding.

In the same way, Jesus says, “I am the vine, you are the branches.” Discipleship does not begin with our decision, but with God’s invitation. We, my friends, are planted by grace.

Before we ever talk about giving, serving, or growing, we must talk about receiving. Today we begin a season of stewardship, and it does not start with what we give to God, but with what God gives to us—life, love, and the very breath we breathe. The soil of our lives is grace—grace that arrives even before we’re aware of our need for it.

Psalm 1 stands like a doorway into the Psalter, a gate into worship and wisdom. It contrasts two ways of being—the way of the wicked and the way of the righteous—but its purpose is not moral comparison; it is invitation:

“Happy are those whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night.”

In Hebrew, torah means instruction—guidance, not merely rules. To meditate on God’s torah is to let your roots sink into divine instruction, to draw up the living water of God’s will. We’re not talking about self-righteousness; we’re talking about God’s grace shaping the soul through Holy Scripture. To delight in the Word is to be opened, nourished, and formed by God.

This, beloved, is core to faithful discipleship. In our Methodist tradition, grace meets us through the means of grace: engaging Scripture, praying, partaking of Holy Communion, joining in Christian fellowship, practicing fasting and acts of mercy. These are not ladders to climb but streams by which grace flows. To engage them is to be planted near living water.

So, in Psalm 1 we meet the person whose life is rooted—whose faith is not seasonal but perennial—whose fruit comes “in its season,” not because they are experts in striving, but because their life abides in God, the stream of living water.

If that were not clear enough, Jesus extends the image in John 15:

“Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.”

Jesus identifies himself as the true vine, the true source of divine life. The Father is the vinedresser. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched pruning up close. When I was first appointed to The Vine, my friend and colleague Rev. Nancy Johnston Varder and I spent an afternoon at White Squirrel Winery in Kenton, Tennessee. Bill Sanderson—owner, faithful United Methodist—walked us through the rows and showed us how he prunes.

To the untrained eye, pruning can look harsh—like fixing what isn’t broken. Bill explained that the vinedresser watches for branches with potential to bear the best fruit. If every shoot is left to grow, the vine produces fruit that’s thin and unfit. Pruning concentrates life where it can do the most good.

Even though it looks painful, wasteful, perhaps severe—even pruning is grace. Without it we cannot produce much.

When Jesus speaks about abiding, he doesn’t mean passive hanging on. In the Greek, abide (menein) is reciprocal: “Abide in me, and I in you.” It means staying connected, continually drawing nourishment, letting Christ’s life flow through us. This is discipleship: not performing for Christ, but remaining in Christ.

And when we remain, we bear fruit—the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

In practice, abiding happens through the means of grace. We abide when we pray, when we read Scripture, when we gather in worship, when we come to the Table, and when we serve our neighbors. These practices keep us connected to the Vine and deepen our roots in God’s love.

In stewardship terms, abiding makes fruit-bearing possible. A disconnected branch cannot give; a dry root cannot nourish others. Our generosity flows from our rootedness in Christ. When our hearts are anchored in grace, we want to give, because we are participating in the life of the Giver. When we abide, we don’t ask, “How much must I give?” We attend to how much of God’s grace is flowing through us to bless others.

Jesus makes the order clear:

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.” (John 15:16)

Our lives in Christ begin with divine initiative. Grace comes first; obedience follows. We are planted by grace, not performance. This is what stewardship really means: responding to grace with gratitude and aligning our lives with God’s purpose. Every gift, every act of service, every prayer, every moment of presence and witness is fruit of grace, not a condition for it.

You may know the line often (erroneously) attributed to John Wesley, “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can…” Not to earn God’s love, but because you are already abiding in it.

So let me ask:

• Where are your roots drawing from?

• What waters are you drinking in this season?

• Are you abiding—or withering?

If your soul feels dry, if your branch feels brittle—hear the good news: The Gardener has not forgotten you. The Vine still flows with life. And the soil of grace is deeper than you think. Discipleship begins not by trying harder, but by trusting deeper. Not by proving your worth, but by receiving God’s love. Because you are already planted in the good soil of grace.

This is a defining season in the life of our church. Even amid challenge, our call is not simply to fund a budget, but to cultivate a movement of grace.

When we give, we tend the roots of this community. We ensure the soil of grace remains deep for generations. We’re not just paying for lights and ministries; we’re watering the roots of faith in Clarksville—nurturing lives that will bear good fruit for the kingdom of God.

My invitation is to partner with us in the work God has set before us in this moment. Beloved, let us recommit—not out of guilt or obligation, but as branches of the true Vine. Let us offer our prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness to God, through this community, because we are planted in grace.

“By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.” (John 15:8)

When the world looks at Hilldale United Methodist Church, may they see not a weary tree but a living grove—rooted deeply, growing steadily, bearing fruit that lasts. Because we have been planted by grace, and grace is the soil in which we will thrive.

Thanks be to God. Amen.