I love trees.
When I gaze up at their seemingly endless branches and leaves, I feel hope that all will one day be made right. It may be because trees seem so stout in their purposes. They were made to throw their roots deep into the ground and stretch out toward the sun. The know this and seem e’er prepared to do so, all while facing whatever weather may come. A tree is unafraid in its life. And trees are equally unafraid of the wear and tear of life. I envy their unending strength.
When I was young, there was this truly terrible Christian song with the lyrics, “I want to be like a tree, planted by the water, trusting in the Father to make me strong.” As I child, those words and its accompanying melody seemded more than silly. But when I look at trees now, my heart seems to cry out for that refrain to be true. For if I could be that rooted, that storng, that unyielding in my purpose — I would be a strong and godly individual indeed.
Instead, I feel most days like a sapling that can never quite get its grip to really grow. How do I become the tree? I think I know the answer, but the cost is high. I wonder if my sapling heart is ready to pay it.