Sometimes a Whisper, Sometimes a Tree

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When I look around at things in my home or yard, I often introspectively debate its usefulness, “Is this worth keeping around?” Perhaps it’s because I’ve spent a lifetime debating my own usefulness.

I have a tree in the backyard. It’s been struggling for awhile. I first noticed a gall, likely the result of an insect attack. Each year it produced less and less leaves. Then this year, none, and I’ve noticed the bark loosening and falling off. It’s fragile. A volleyball hit one of the branches and it snapped right off.

I’ve mentioned many times that I need to cut that tree down and use it for campfire wood. Others who have been over have said the same thing, “That tree needs to be cut down.” The consensus has been that it has outlived its usefulness. How could a tree that depleted, that unattractive, be beneficial in any way?

I’ve been going through a very difficult season for the last couple of years, and the last several months have been especially hard. I’ve felt like that tree. On one particularly emotional morning, I got up bright and early with the sun and went out to look at my garden. That tree caught my eye. I stopped and just looked at it. I could tell God was slowing me down and asking me to pay attention because He wanted to show me something. I sat on the balance beam, stared at that tree and waited.

“Okay, God. What do you want to teach me through this tree? What use is it now? Show me some usefulness it still has.” I identified with that tree too much and was desperately asking God to show me it was still valuable in some way. A bird landed in it.

“Okay, it still provides a roost for birds.” I searched for more. “It provides a small amount of shade still; though not as much as if it were full of leaves. Is that supposed to symbolize me? Am I that tree? Are others that tree when they feel depleted and unworthy?” I stored up these things in my mind, pondered a bit, and spent a little time with the Lord before I got up to go back inside, knowing the lesson wasn’t over. I also knew that I couldn’t cut that tree down yet.

Then, just a few days ago, my older kids had friends over to play volleyball. I was playing too, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw my nine-year-old climbing that tree. It’s not the best climbing tree. You can’t get very high because the branches become thin very quickly as you rise, but he didn’t care. At only a few feet off the ground, he leaned against the trunk and played with bark. I held back a tear as God asked me, “See another use it has?”

And I see. Even though that tree is broken, it can still be a blessing. It is still useful. God’s not done with it.

I’ve debated what’s to blame for the condition the tree is in. Insect attack? A tree that is strong and healthy can withstand a certain amount of attacks. Though there is always a limit to what it can endure. Lack of nutrients? It can be beneficial to try to identify the cause-you can potentially treat it, or at least learn ways to prevent the same thing from happening again-in the same tree or perhaps another tree. I’m not sure if this tree is too far gone. By looking at it, I don’t hold out much hope that it will recover; but that’s where the comparison between the tree and I ends.

We’re never too far gone. The mistake we too often make is looking at ourselves through our own eyes instead of God’s. We believe our scars, scrapes, and bruises disqualify us; but, Jesus’ scars, scrapes, and bruises didn’t disqualify Him. It is in those wounds that we find our healing.

The truth is we, like that tree, are all a little raggedy. We’re all missing a little bark. We may still be showing some signs of a previous attack. We might go through seasons in which we feel like our leaves have withered and fallen off.

I was so quick to dismiss that tree, but the birds and my son still saw its usefulness. Through them, I too realize its value.

“Okay, God, I hear you.” I don’t think I’ll cut that tree down just yet.