Better Than We Thought: God Never Intended to Grow Houseplants
This post is part of a short series called Better Than We Thought, flowing out of a recent message I shared at my home church. The heartbeat of this series is simple: often, what God has already given us—faith, calling, formation, even Christ Himself—is deeper, stronger, and more formative than we initially recognize. These reflections are an invitation to slow down, deepen our roots, and learn to see more clearly the work God is already doing in us.
There are moments when growth stalls not because it’s neglected—but because it’s contained.
That truth was taught to me long before I had language for it, through a woman named Leona Martin.
My grandparents owned Matzke Florist for decades, and if you entered through the side door—the family entrance—you would almost always find Leona there. Always busy. Always cheerful. Always working with her hands in the soil.
Leona worked at that flower shop from 1954 until she retired at the age of 90. For decades, she curated and cultivated nearly every planter that left that shop. She understood growth in a way few people do—not theoretically, but practically.
She knew which plants could grow together.
She knew which environments restricted growth.
And she knew when a pot had done all it could do.
Here’s what Leona taught me, even before I realized she was teaching it:
Some plants don’t stop growing because they’re unhealthy.
They stop growing because the container is too small.
Left too long, containers don’t protect growth—they restrict it.
That insight has stayed with me, especially as I think about the life of faith.
There are times when we assume growth has stalled because we’ve failed somehow. We pray more. Try harder. Add disciplines. Push for outcomes. But sometimes the issue isn’t effort—it’s environment.
Sometimes we restrict growth while trying to protect it.
Scripture gives us language for this in Isaiah 61. God describes His people not as decorative plants, but as “oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.”
That image matters.
God does not describe His people as portable.
He does not describe them as manageable.
He does not describe them as contained.
He calls them oaks.
Oaks are planted, not moved.
They grow slowly, not quickly.
They send their roots deep, not wide.
And over time, they become strong enough to provide shade and shelter for others.
Oaks don’t thrive in pots.
And neither do we.
There are seasons when what once served us well becomes too small for what God is growing in us. Familiar structures. Comfortable patterns. Even well-intended environments can begin to limit formation if they are never allowed to expand.
Leona knew this instinctively. When a plant outgrew its container, she didn’t shame it. She didn’t question its health. She simply moved it to open ground—where its roots could deepen and its growth could continue.
What if God’s work in us is similar?
What if some of the frustration we feel isn’t a sign that something is wrong—but a signal that something needs more room?
God never intended to grow houseplants in His people.
He intended to grow oaks.
And oaks require patience, depth, and space. They require environments that allow roots to stretch and strength to form over time.
The gift God has given you may be better than you think.
The growth you’re experiencing may be real—even if it feels constrained.
And the next step may not be more effort, but more room.
Better Than We Thought is a series shaped by a simple conviction: God is often doing more in us than we currently have the capacity to recognize. Over the coming posts, we’ll continue to explore how gifts are discovered, how roots are formed, and how faith deepens over time. If you’d like to hear the full message that gave shape to these reflections, you can watch it here.
