Growth rarely happens alone.

I have in recent years become a bit more of a solitary grower. Other than a few rants out loud, I’ve mostly processed things internally. Maybe it’s spiritual growth, but lately, I’ve believed the deepest growth happens in private. In the quiet, in the pages of a journal, in the space between me and God where nobody else needs to be invited.

And that’s partly true. Some of the most significant formation in my life has happened in exactly that quiet, private space. But somewhere along the way I picked up a belief that needing other people in my growth was a sign of weakness. That if I was truly rooted, I should be able to stand on my own.

It took a season of real isolation (one that wasn’t chosen) to show me how wrong I was about that.

Trees Don’t Actually Grow Alone Either

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 with an image of one man helping another climbing a mountain.

Here’s something I learned recently. Trees in a forest communicate through their root systems. They share nutrients. Older, more established trees will actually send resources through underground fungal networks to younger or struggling trees nearby. A tree in distress signals through its roots, and the forest responds.

They’re not competing. They’re connected.

I read that and thought immediately of Ecclesiastes 4:9-10: “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.”

Solomon wasn’t describing weakness. He was describing design. We were built for this, the kind of growth that happens in connection, not just in isolation.

What Community Actually Does for Growth

I think we sometimes misunderstand the purpose of community in the context of spiritual growth. We treat it like something nice to have, useful when things get hard, but not really essential to the core work.

But the forest doesn’t work that way. And neither do we.

The people around us do things for our growth we genuinely cannot do for ourselves. They see our blind spots. They speak truth into the places where we’ve gotten comfortable with our own narrative. Some of them model something we haven’t grown into yet and give us a living picture of what’s possible. Others carry things with us that are too heavy to carry alone.

That season of isolation I mentioned? It came during a stretch when I had quietly lost most of my close relationships. The others ended up shifting to surface-level. Just the slow drift of busy seasons and unanswered texts and the gradual convincing of myself that I was fine, actually, and didn’t need much.

The roots were there. But they weren’t connected to anything.

And I could feel it, eventually. You might be familiar with it too. That kind of brittleness solitary trees in open fields develop. Technically standing, but without the shelter and support of the forest around them. More exposed than I needed to be. More alone in my growth than God ever intended.

An Honest Invitation for Real Growth

Are you someone who defaults to solitary growth? Do you process internally and hold people at a comfortable arm’s length, telling yourself you’re fine because you have a good quiet time routine? If so, I want to ask you gently: who are your roots connected to?

Not who do you know? Not who would show up if things got truly dire. But who actually knows what’s growing in you right now? Who are you letting into the real soil?

That doesn’t require a dramatic overhaul of your social life. It might just mean one honest conversation. One relationship you stop keeping carefully managed and start letting get a little more real.

The forest didn’t build those networks overnight. It happened slowly, root by root, over time. But it started with proximity. With staying planted near other trees long enough for the roots to find each other.

This month, our theme is GROWGet Rooted On the Word. And the Word has a lot to say about growing together. Not because solitary growth is worthless, but because connected growth is stronger. The roots that reach toward each other in the dark are part of how the whole forest stands.

Join the conversation

Join the Conversation

Who is someone who has significantly shaped your growth? A mentor, a friend, a family member, even someone you’ve never met whose words found you at exactly the right time?

You don’t have to share anything deeply personal. Just tell us who comes to mind and why. We’d love to celebrate the people who have helped us get rooted.

For the relationships you’ve let go surface-level, the connections you’ve been avoiding, the honest question of who actually knows what’s growing in you right now, take it to your private journal, whether it be handwritten or typed into an online document. And maybe, after you write it, take it to one valued and trusted person too.

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