| | So perhaps this subject is on my mind because of the lectionary text that I'll be preaching on this Sunday. Or maybe it's just that life seems to be beginning anew everywhere I look - from the new grasses and flowers and weeds to the church to new friends. New growth and new life are becoming, but as I'm learning, this process is not always an easy or painless transformation.
So often, I look to nature to understand life. One image that I'm continuously drawn to is that of a sycamore tree. I walk by several on my way to work or on the path along the river, and every time that I see these tall, slender trees with bark peeling off from the growth, I think of life. As the bark falls, so we shed our skin and grow. They exfoliate their skin leaving a gorgeous, brilliant white color that stands out among every other tree.
This morning I was on the phone with a non-profit organization to see about arranging an appointment to help out a friend of mine with money for rent or utilities. After the call, I drove out to meet my friend and we talked about the situation, the work, the struggles, the helplessness, the pride that would not give in to handouts, and the gift of community that is all about revealing God working through every one of us. Throughout the conversation and the time together, it became very clear that this friend's situation is due to several transitions in life. From steady employment to none; from living alone to living with family; from having transportation to none; from having electricity to running a cord to a friend's house. The amount of change and transformation ongoing in this one season is terrifying and at the same moment hopeful. It is a period of becoming more steadfast in discipline, more intentional about engaging in relationships, and more open to the possibility of receiving along with giving.
Towards the end of this conversation and time together, my eyes instantly became fixed on something beyond my friend's home. Towering over this house was a 50 foot tall, spectacular, sycamore tree standing straight as could be. It was one of those moments when everything stops and all you can do is stare in awe. This awesome tree had been planted there all this time, and only after an hour and a half had I noticed this creation. Beautiful. A hopeful message for myself and my friend. A realization that presence is not based upon our acknowledgment. A vision of future peace that has come through endurance and change and growth.
We are always growing, always changing, even if we don't know it. Sometimes, I guess it just takes a moment to look on the ground and see our shed skin; it takes a moment to look around us and take stock of just how far we've come, and how much more we must become. The question is not if or when we will change or grow, but how. How shall we change? With what spirit shall we embrace the new and the possibility?
With fear? With cynicism? Or with a fearless hope?
I should think the latter.
We have a hope that while remaining grounded in the sustaining foundation of life has the audacity to look upwards and soak up the very light that nurtures our lives. A hope that holds on to what it has been and still eagerly awaits today and tomorrow for what shall be. This is the hope that I believe we must come to hold on to as we live, as we gather for church, and as we continue to be faithful to a living God who knows the true depth of life, of love, and of wonder.
Let us together be bold in life; let us have the courage to change; and let us have the peace to know that as we change, we never remove ourselves from the roots that grow deep in our foundation, but we grow deeper and taller and truer.
Blessed by the Sycamore Tree.
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| | Posted 3/3/2008 10:45 PM - 29 views - 0 comments
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