There aren’t very many oak trees in my
neighborhood. Of course that isn’t to say that you can’t find plenty of
other species to be found there—Arizona Ash, Bradford Pears, Mulberries and
Cottonwoods like the one in my backyard that needs to be removed. The best
we can figure is that when the neighborhood was being built, the developers
opted for speed over quality, trees that would provide shade to homeowners
as quickly as possible. But as I’ve learned, there is a price to be paid
for such expedience—leggy branches hanging over the sidewalk, dead limbs
that have to be removed on a fairly regular basis, from the ground and even
from the tree itself, shallow root systems that don’t provide enough
stability to hold the tree in place. So, I’ve come to the conclusion that
although it would be slow going, our neighborhood would be better off if
everyone started planting oaks instead.
Amos may have been a “dresser of trees”, but
even so the Prophet Isaiah apparently possessed at least a little arboreal
know how. At various points he speaks of shoots sprouting up from stumps,
of the glory of Lebanon coming to God’s people like the cypress, the plane
and the pine and of the people of God themselves as “oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.” Think of it, “oak trees
for the Lord.” Have you ever heard such a thing?
Being married to a landscape designer I’ve
managed to learn a few things about gardening techniques in particular and
horticulture in general. Now while Jenny claims not to be as familiar with
trees as she is with loriape or autumn joy sedum, I beg to differ. Call it
a little “sermon research” but just the other night over supper I asked her
to give me a little primer on oaks. I was surprised to learn from her that
you never find one lone oak tree growing in the wild, but clusters of them
all connected by an intricate network of roots through which they in effect
relate to one another. That’s why a disease like Oak Wilt is so
devastating, because if one becomes infected, chances are its going to pass
it on to others. If that happens, the only hope is to dig down deep and try
as best you can to separate the roots.
“They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, to display his glory.” It’s an evocative image
for us to consider as the church, especially in this season of Advent, a
time of preparation and waiting, a time of hope and anticipation for that
which is grows even as we sleep. No doubt, it was an image that spoke to
God’s people long ago, people home after years of exile, people who were
growing increasingly discouraged and even brokenhearted were beginning to
realize that rebuilding their lives wasn’t as easy as they had imagined it
would be. Enter then the servant of the LORD, the one upon whom the spirit
rests, whom the LORD himself as anointed, “to bring good news to the
oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD’S favor.”
And when you stop and think about it, are
their circumstances really all that different from that of our world today?
The great songwriter Bob Dylan laments, “Broken hands on broken ploughs,
broken treaties broken vows, broken pipes, broken tools, people bending
broken rules. Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking, everything is broken.”
We live in a world where people are held captive not only behind bars of
iron, but of our own making—of compulsion and addiction, of fear and
insecurity, of the unrealistic expectations of others and ourselves. It’s a
world where the stream of bad news seems never ending—of violence the
streets of Iraq and East Austin, of self-seeking public officials, of
children without enough to eat from sub Saharan Africa to right here in our
own community. These days, aren’t we all longing for a hint, an inkling, a
word of comfort that we can hold on to?
And it sure would be nice if God would get to
it quickly, because it’s hard to say how much longer we can hold out, so
there may not be much time if any for us to waste. Given the situation,
maybe oak trees aren’t the best choice. Sure, it’d be nice, but oaks take
time to grow, a long time and from our perspective, time simply isn’t on our
side. It may not be the best choice, but at least with a Bradford Pear or
Cottonwood we won’t have to wait as long. At least there will be something
to hold on to.
But as much as we long for and believe in
quick fixes with immediate results God is up to something completely
different. Slowly, carefully, and deliberately God is in the business of
planting oaks that aren’t going to succumb to disease or be blown over by
the wind but that will weather the storm and last because they’re solid,
just the way God has made them to be. His Word, his promise for us stands
forever which nothing in heaven or on earth can ever undo. Through Jesus
Christ, we know the Good News of God, broken hearts are bound up, mourning
turns into dancing and we are set free to live in the fullness of God’s
grace and favor.
And its not only “what” God gives us, but what
God is making of us. “They will be called oaks of righteousness, the
planting of the LORD, to display his glory. They shall build up the ancient
ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the
ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.” Now, I’ll wager that
if we were to imagine ourselves as a particular kind of tree most of us
wouldn’t pride ourselves as oaks, let alone righteous ones. Oaks are solid
and strong, able to weather not only storms but intense cold and heat all
the while maintaining their serenity and beauty, which isn’t how most of us
would describe ourselves at all. But none of us is determined by our
insecurities and failings, by the kind of people we think we should be, but
aren’t. It is God who makes us, who fashions and forms us, who places and
plants us according to his wisdom and will.
(Conversation about oak trees on church
property follows.)
