For centuries, the Leaning Tower of Pisa leaned farther and farther. Its famous tilt was no longer merely unusual; engineers feared that the tower might collapse. In 1990, it was closed to visitors. Heavy lead weights were placed on one side. Steel cables were attached to hold it. Among the more radical proposals was taking the entire tower apart, stone by stone, and rebuilding it.

But the tower was not finally saved by pulling harder from above or rebuilding everything.

Engineers looked beneath it. The soil under the tower was soft and uneven. They carefully removed small amounts of earth from beneath the higher side. Slowly, the tower settled into a safer position. The enormous building was helped by attending to the hidden ground on which it stood.

In today’s reading, Isaiah tells a song about a vineyard. Its owner chooses good land, digs the soil, clears away the stones, plants fine vines, and waits for fruit. Before expecting anything to grow, he pays attention to what lies beneath the surface.

Our lives and our faith can be like that leaning tower. Things do not always work out as we expected. Plans fail. Relationships change. Grief enters. We take detours we never chose. Slowly, sometimes without noticing, the tower of our life begins to lean.

So we reach for heavy solutions. We push ourselves harder. We add more activity, more discipline, more control. We try to rebalance everything at once. Sometimes we even think we must tear our whole life apart and begin again.

But what if the answer is beneath our feet?

Beneath anger there may be hurt. Beneath control, fear. Beneath distance, disappointment. Beneath constant activity, the belief that our worth must always be proven.

These are the stones Isaiah invites us to notice—not so that we may condemn ourselves, but so that the roots of life and faith may grow more freely.

Perhaps our prayer this week can be simple: “Lord, show me what lies beneath. Help me see the obstacle I have ignored, the burden I have grown accustomed to carrying, the heavy stone around which my life has been trying to grow.”

And then we ask for strength—not necessarily to remove everything at once, but to begin. God may guide us toward an honest conversation, an apology, forgiveness, rest, or the courage to ask for help.

The tower was not hopeless because it leaned. It needed patient attention beneath the surface. So do we. And God is willing to meet us there.