By Jennifer Greene-Sullivan
Torn Wings Still Fly
“Far from the shallows now.”
That single line from a song has been playing in my mind for weeks. Not the entire song—just that one phrase. It arrives during my quiet time each morning, lingering long enough for me to wonder whether the Lord is trying to get my attention.
For several weeks, I have been praying about a decision, and as the deadline approached, I found myself asking the same question repeatedly: “Lord, what do You want me to do?” I wanted a clear answer, but instead I found myself returning to John 15 and Jesus’ teaching on pruning.
The last two years have looked very different from the twenty years that came before them. My world became smaller, and my circle became smaller. Most days were spent either at home or in our tiny house office. The pace slowed considerably. While I was grateful for the rest, I often struggled with the waiting.
I am not naturally patient.
As I reflected on John 15, I realized something I had not fully appreciated before this season in my life. When the Lord began this transitional season, I was exhausted. I was burned out. I was overstimulated by years of constant motion, and what felt like restriction was actually mercy. The Father was creating space for healing, understanding, and deeper intimacy with Him.
Isaiah reminds us, “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles” (Isaiah 40:31, ESV). The waiting was not punishment. It was preparation.
Jesus said, “Every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:2, ESV).
Then, during my prayer time, the Lord brought an unusual picture to mind.
I have always enjoyed watching betta fish and kept them in my classroom for many years. Owners often “jar” their betta fish. Jarring separates young male bettas while they mature. For a season, juvenile bettas are kept in smaller spaces within an enclosure so that they cannot injure themselves fighting other fish. Jarring may seem restrictive at first glance because the fish cannot roam freely. They cannot interact with others. Yet, this temporary isolation serves a greater purpose. During that season, male bettas develop the long, colorful fins that make them so striking.
Suddenly, I understood.
Had I been jarred for a season?
There were days I appreciated the peace, yet there were days I resisted it. There were moments I longed to teach again, to sing again, and to step back into familiar places. Yet, the more I prayed, the more I sensed the Lord showing me that hidden seasons are not wasted seasons.
Hidden seasons are not wasted seasons.
For a season, the jar was necessary. It was not the fish’s final destination. Growth was happening there, even when movement seemed limited. Eventually, healthy fish outgrow the shallows of the jar and are released into deeper waters. As I prayed, I could not shake the feeling that the Lord was whispering the same thing to me:
You are far from the shallows now.
Scripture reveals this pattern repeatedly. Before Jesus began His earthly ministry, He stepped into the waters of baptism. As He came up from the water, the heavens opened, the Holy Spirit descended upon Him like a dove, and the Father declared, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17, ESV). Before the miracles, before the crowds, and before the ministry that would change the world, there was affirmation from the Father and empowerment by the Holy Spirit.
Perhaps that is why the Father’s words have lingered in my spirit these past few weeks:
“Don’t despise the pruning.”
Pruning rarely feels pleasant while it is happening. Isolation can feel lonely. Waiting can feel unproductive. Yet, the Father never wastes a season. What appears to be limitation may actually be preparation.
As I look back, I can see that I am not the same person I was two years ago. Graciously, the Lord has changed me. He has deepened my faith, clarified my priorities, and taught me to abide rather than strive.
Jesus later says, “Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit” (John 15:5, ESV).
Perhaps that is the true purpose of pruning. It is not simply about removing what is unhealthy; it is about creating room for greater fruitfulness. The Father’s pruning knife is never meant to destroy the branch: it is meant to prepare it for what comes next.
I do not know every detail of what comes next. I only know that the waters are deeper now. The shallows are behind me. The Father has been faithful in the waiting, and He will be faithful in the sending.
Wherever He leads, I intend to follow.
After all, torn wings still fly.
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