Cultivating Summer Peace | Grit and Grace Podcast with Tonya Bruton
Updated: Aug 19
This week on the podcast, I talked about one of the first truths every believer must learn: God is our Source. People, jobs, money, doctors, churches, opportunities, and relationships may become resources God uses in our lives, but none of them can take His place.
I truly believe that. I can teach it, support it with Scripture, and encourage someone else to build their life upon it. However, living as though I believe it every day is another matter entirely.
I wish I could start this article by saying that I have learned to rest in God with the quiet confidence of a branch attached to a healthy vine. Instead, I often find myself trying to think my way into security, preparing for every possible outcome, and carrying responsibilities that God never intended for me to bear.
When someone I love is struggling, I feel the urge to fix it. When the future feels uncertain, my mind begins searching for answers. When a need arises, I can become overly focused on where the provision might come from rather than on the God who promised to provide.
Perhaps that is why Jesus’ words in John 15 resonate so deeply with me:
“Abide in me, and I in you.”—John 15:4, ESV
This is not a lesson I have completed. It is an invitation I keep returning to.
A Branch Does Not Create Its Own Life
By midsummer, a garden can make growth appear effortless. Vines climb fences. Flowers open toward the sun. Trees stand full and green, while fruit begins forming beneath the leaves. Yet, most of the work that sustains that beauty remains hidden.
Roots reach deep into the soil for water. Nutrients travel through stems. Sunlight is received and transformed into energy. The flower does not wake each morning determined to manufacture life through greater effort. Instead, it receives what its source provides.
Jesus chose the image of a vine and its branches to explain our relationship with Him. A branch may be carefully shaped, supported by a trellis, and surrounded by good soil, but it cannot produce anything once it is separated from the vine.
The same is true for us. We can create plans, seek wise counsel, work diligently, and build healthy relationships. All of those things have value. Trouble begins when we expect them to give us what can only come from God.
A person cannot become our source of complete peace. A paycheck cannot promise permanent security. A doctor may participate in healing, but that doctor does not possess the breath of life. Even our own strength has limits.
God is not one source among many. He is the One from whom every good resource ultimately comes.
When I Forget Where My Life Comes From
My struggle is rarely that I have stopped believing in God. More often, I forget to draw from Him before I begin drawing from myself. I move too quickly into problem-solving. Prayer becomes something I reach for after I have exhausted my ideas. My peace starts depending on whether people respond the way I hoped, whether the numbers add up, or whether I can see a clear path forward.
That way of living is exhausting because it makes me responsible for outcomes I cannot control. I have also confused caring for people with carrying them. Love calls us to show up, pray, listen, help when we are able, and remain faithful in the responsibilities God has given us. Love does not require us to become another person’s savior, provider, healer, or Holy Spirit. That position is already filled.
The branch has work to do, but it is never asked to become the vine.
Abiding does not mean that we stop participating in our lives. It means we stop pretending we are their source.
Abiding In The Vine Is the Practice of Returning
The word abide can sound passive, as though Jesus were telling us to sit quietly while life happens around us. Yet abiding means remaining, dwelling, continuing, and making our home in Him. It is active dependence.
For me, abiding often looks like returning to God after I notice that anxiety has pulled me several miles into a future that has not happened. It means bringing Him the questions before I demand immediate answers. It requires admitting when I have placed too much trust in a person, a plan, or my own ability to manage everything.
The Israelites received a practical lesson in dependence when God provided manna in the wilderness. He gave them what they needed for that day. Gathering far more than He instructed did not create greater security. Instead, it revealed how difficult it was for them to trust that He would provide again tomorrow.
Jesus echoed that daily dependence when He taught His disciples to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” I would prefer a detailed supply report for the next several years. Daily bread asks me to trust the Giver again in the morning.
Abiding brings us back to the present place where God is already waiting. His grace is available here. His wisdom is available for the decision in front of us. His strength is sufficient for the portion of the journey He has given us today. Tomorrow will require another return.
Fruit Cannot Be Forced
The fruit of the Spirit is often treated like a list of qualities Christians should work harder to display: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Effort has a place in spiritual growth. Scripture teaches discipline, obedience, perseverance, and the renewing of our minds. Yet Paul deliberately calls these qualities the fruit of the Spirit.
Fruit is the evidence of life flowing through something. One book that has deeply shaped my understanding of this is Watchman Nee’s The Normal Christian Life. Nee writes about the difference between struggling to manufacture the Christian life ourselves and allowing the life of Christ to work within us. I especially recommend the audiobook because it is something you can listen to slowly and revisit as these truths begin to settle in.
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A branch does not tape artificial grapes to its leaves and call itself fruitful. It remains connected to the vine long enough for genuine fruit to form. Peace grows in a similar way. I cannot shame myself into becoming peaceful. I cannot create lasting peace by repeating the right words while my trust remains rooted in circumstances. Peace begins to form as I learn who God is, remember what He has promised, and depend upon Him in situations I cannot manage.
That growth may be difficult to recognize at first. Peace might appear as a pause before reacting. It may allow us to sleep without solving every part of tomorrow. It can steady us while the situation itself remains unsettled. The presence of peace does not always mean the problem has disappeared. It may mean our roots have reached deeper than the problem.
Growth Often Begins Where No One Can See It
A garden contains long stretches when very little appears to be happening. Seeds remain beneath the soil. Roots strengthen before new growth becomes visible. Pruning can make a plant look smaller for a while, even though the gardener is preparing it to become healthier.
Our spiritual lives have similar seasons. Trust develops during ordinary mornings when we turn to God again. Contentment grows as we learn, like Paul, that our circumstances do not determine the faithfulness of God. Maturity forms each time we resist the urge to make another person responsible for what only Christ can provide.
Paul wrote that he had learned to be content in every circumstance. Contentment was not an automatic personality trait or a reward for reaching a trouble-free season. It was something he learned through abundance and need, freedom and confinement, strength and weakness. That gives me hope.
My imperfect practice does not cancel the truth I am learning. The moments when I reach for control reveal where my trust still needs to grow. God does not respond by cutting me away from the Vine. He invites me closer.
Cultivating Summer Peace
This summer, I am thinking of peace less as a feeling I must capture and more as fruit that God is cultivating. The cultivation begins with connection. Before I search for reassurance everywhere else, I can bring my fear to God. When I notice myself trying to become the answer for everyone around me, I can step back into the role He actually gave me. When the future feels too heavy, I can ask for today’s bread rather than demanding tomorrow’s map.
I will not practice this perfectly. There will be days when I grip too tightly, think too far ahead, and place my confidence in resources that were never designed to bear that weight. The Vine remains faithful on those days too.
Jesus did not say, “Produce enough fruit, and then you may abide in Me.” He invited us to remain in Him because life and fruit begin there. A garden does not hurry itself into maturity. It receives sunlight, water, nourishment, pruning, and time. Our souls also need the steady life that comes from remaining close to Christ.
I am still learning to abide. Trust may look less like never feeling afraid and more like remembering where to return when fear rises. Peace may grow gradually, beneath the surface, before anyone else can see it. The branch is not the Source. Neither am I. Christ is the Vine, and He continues to offer everything necessary for life.
A Closing Invitation
Where have you been looking for something that only God can provide? I would love for you to share your thoughts in the comments. You can also listen to this week’s episode, where I talk more about learning to recognize God as our Source and allowing everything else to remain a resource in His hands: [https://youtu.be/niR-M1eoD1A]
Please share this post with someone who may need the reminder, and explore the complete Golden Summer Blog Series for more reflections on slowing down, trusting God, and learning to inhabit the life He has given us.
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