Last Fall, I transplanted a tree in my back yard. I’m not sure if it is a maple or sweet gum tree. But as Winter had passed and Spring arrived, the tree that I had transplanted had not yet shown any signs of Spring. It looked dead. The young once brown bark was dormant and grey. I looked the transplanted tree up and down. It must be dead. Everything else was in bloom. The flowers everywhere joyfully reached for the sun, the azaleas were bright, camellias were smiling, geraniums were showing off, and every other tree was beautifully green and leafy. Yet winter seemed to have taken its sacrifice. The transplanted mystery tree was dead.
After noticing that the tree wouldn't make it, my prayer life seemed to realize many things that needed change. Not every tree produces good fruit. Sometimes branches that are not fruitful and need to be pruned. My life in ministry seemed full of examples where I had hoped to see life, but only found death — places where I had expected the vibrant movement of the Spirit and only found the absence of God. Literally, I wept for the silly tree — the mystery tree that I did not even know if it was a maple or sweet gum. Why I was emotionally attached to a tree, I am not sure other than it felt emblematic of every time a hope in my ministry had gone unmet. Have you ever needed to weep over unmet hopes? Our scriptures help us in such times. Lamentations and numerous Psalms teaches us that sometimes we need to lament. In my morning prayers, I prayed a lament for all of the times that it seemed to me that God had not shown up.
Weeks went by. I knew what had to be done, but I was unwilling to sacrifice that which I had tried to preserve. Could not the precious sapling even yet find life and become rooted into possibilities? And yet, I knew what had to be done. I had a burn pile that I was readying for other branches and limbs that had fallen in recent stormy nights. This tree would join them, all because of my misguided intervention and false belief. Why had I not simply left the tree where it was or wasted the time and energy trying to save another lost cause. So, I donned the gardening gloves of death. Approached the tree and prepared the sacrifice. Beginning to pull the struggling, unaware sapling youth, by its trunk when a very faint glimpse of green caught my eye. Hold on, I had just examined the tree. In my selfish grief had I missed something? I felt like Isaac looking for the ram. I hesitated for I did not want the tree to die. Was it life? I could not tell. Had I seen it or felt it in my soul? Was it just false hope? I paused, hoped again, and prayed a new prayer. God, this is your tree. Let me help it as you will.
How many times in our lives do we forget whose yard we are planting and working in? The next day, I halted my frustration at work. I ceased my discouragement in my personal life. My prayer life took the form of meek resignation to the will and providence of God. And, then the biggest surprise of all. A leaf broke forth on the dormant sweet gum tree and I found myself renewed in hope. By the end of that week it had as many leaves as any other tree in the yard and was experiencing vibrant Spring growth. There is still a little mystery to the tree that will be revealed when it either it produces acorns or sweet gum balls. But, in much of my life with God, renewal comes after what often feels like a long dormant time with people pleading for intervention and hope amidst the mystery of the unknown. Then somewhere between the edge of life and death the surprising possibilities of new life emerges in its God given season.
What do we need to continue to take to God and trust him with that we have given up on?
Is it possible that what was thought to be dead is showing new signs of new life?
Perseverance involves continuing to faithfully seek God's will each day and remember that it is God's mystery tree anyway. And sometimes, the most difficult challenge is to remain patiently faithful when we can't see what's going on. But, remain faithful and you might just be surprised by what God can do.
Grace and peace,
Brad.
After noticing that the tree wouldn't make it, my prayer life seemed to realize many things that needed change. Not every tree produces good fruit. Sometimes branches that are not fruitful and need to be pruned. My life in ministry seemed full of examples where I had hoped to see life, but only found death — places where I had expected the vibrant movement of the Spirit and only found the absence of God. Literally, I wept for the silly tree — the mystery tree that I did not even know if it was a maple or sweet gum. Why I was emotionally attached to a tree, I am not sure other than it felt emblematic of every time a hope in my ministry had gone unmet. Have you ever needed to weep over unmet hopes? Our scriptures help us in such times. Lamentations and numerous Psalms teaches us that sometimes we need to lament. In my morning prayers, I prayed a lament for all of the times that it seemed to me that God had not shown up.
Weeks went by. I knew what had to be done, but I was unwilling to sacrifice that which I had tried to preserve. Could not the precious sapling even yet find life and become rooted into possibilities? And yet, I knew what had to be done. I had a burn pile that I was readying for other branches and limbs that had fallen in recent stormy nights. This tree would join them, all because of my misguided intervention and false belief. Why had I not simply left the tree where it was or wasted the time and energy trying to save another lost cause. So, I donned the gardening gloves of death. Approached the tree and prepared the sacrifice. Beginning to pull the struggling, unaware sapling youth, by its trunk when a very faint glimpse of green caught my eye. Hold on, I had just examined the tree. In my selfish grief had I missed something? I felt like Isaac looking for the ram. I hesitated for I did not want the tree to die. Was it life? I could not tell. Had I seen it or felt it in my soul? Was it just false hope? I paused, hoped again, and prayed a new prayer. God, this is your tree. Let me help it as you will.
How many times in our lives do we forget whose yard we are planting and working in? The next day, I halted my frustration at work. I ceased my discouragement in my personal life. My prayer life took the form of meek resignation to the will and providence of God. And, then the biggest surprise of all. A leaf broke forth on the dormant sweet gum tree and I found myself renewed in hope. By the end of that week it had as many leaves as any other tree in the yard and was experiencing vibrant Spring growth. There is still a little mystery to the tree that will be revealed when it either it produces acorns or sweet gum balls. But, in much of my life with God, renewal comes after what often feels like a long dormant time with people pleading for intervention and hope amidst the mystery of the unknown. Then somewhere between the edge of life and death the surprising possibilities of new life emerges in its God given season.
What do we need to continue to take to God and trust him with that we have given up on?
Is it possible that what was thought to be dead is showing new signs of new life?
Perseverance involves continuing to faithfully seek God's will each day and remember that it is God's mystery tree anyway. And sometimes, the most difficult challenge is to remain patiently faithful when we can't see what's going on. But, remain faithful and you might just be surprised by what God can do.
Grace and peace,
Brad.
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