That’s immediately what we thought when we got the picture from my mom. A tree that had been faithfully standing guard over their home for a century, was toppled by a strong gust of wind – not a storm, not a tornado, but the strength of a direct wind.
As I walked the wreckage, and thanked God for its fateful shift that missed the house by mere feet, I considered its substance. The trunk was massive, but as I inspected the roots, they weren’t as thick as I would have thought or as long as I would have expected. In fact, surprisingly, the hole left, though large, wasn’t as massive as the tree that was rooted there. Sure, there is some water to drain out, but in short time, earth will refill the spot left vacant by generations of occupation.
As I walked around the corpse of the tree, I noticed it had leaves and the evidence of life and death. In season it had flowered and bore fruit, but the source of its strength and stability had not reached its potential, subjecting it to upheaval.
I thought of myself, of my faith, of my identity as an “oak of righteousness.” Are my roots going deep, are they spreading beyond what I am producing? Is the only evidence of stability on the outside while deep down there is shallow depth and spindly faith?
In that moment of reflection, I remembered my dad telling me about Redwood trees – a beautiful reminder of his life in California before the great storm of his life shifted an 8 year old boy into a bread winner and man of the family. You see, redwoods are massive, fortified and towering for centuries. And they have a root system that is unparalleled in the plant kingdom – their roots don’t just go down deep, but they branch out and reach for the roots of the trees around them and intertwined to fortify their strength. There cannot be a lone redwood, they are always found in close proximity. They also have this fortified wood that though it is soft, is resistant to pests and corrosion and is ideal for construction.
I heard God whisper, “Be a redwood.”
“Go down deep in My love.
Reach out for others and hold one another up.
Stay connected to others like you.
Grow tall and resilient.
Resist what seeks to attack and corrupt you.
Bring stability to others by what you produce.
Be soft where others are hard.”
This is me reaching out, seeking the roots of those longing to endure. Entwining with those who have been sifted so we might remain and resist the winds of change and hold fast in the midst of adversity.
My mom’s oak will soon be cleaned up. Just an impression on the ground until time fills it in. And, it hasn’t been lost on me that all that is left will be used for firewood.
Leslie A Lamb/Sifted Wheat 