Lessons from the trees

On our recent holiday, Dean and I were dirt-biking in a dry, arid region of the interior of British Columbia. The barrenness of the hills exposes their wrinkles and irregularities. At first glance it is not an area that one would generally associate with vibrant life. Recent invasions of the mountain pine beetle have exacerbated the image of lifelessness by encompassing what forests there are with the dull red of death. It is a depressing image.

But our excursions into the less-travelled, less-noticed regions of the hill country brought new images to the fore. The seemingly barren hills were alive with sages and junipers, gently scenting the air with their musky fragrance. Hardy sedges and grasses transformed small pockets of water into little oases for the cattle that roamed at large. Even the rocks supported the tenacious life of lichens and mosses. Everywhere we looked the image of death was supplanted by evidence of life.

But the most striking image of all is forever burned into my memory. We emerged from a forested section of trail into a modest meadow. Lining one edge of the meadow was a small grove of shimmering green aspens. Life. Immediately behind the aspens stood several stately ponderosa pines, all fully intact and beautifully formed, but completely red. Death.

The stark contrast of colour, of life and death reminded me of Deuteronomy 30:19 "... I have set before you life and death...Now choose life, so that you and your children may live, and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to His voice, and hold fast to Him. For the Lord is your life..."

In a world that continually seeks immortality through the mechanisms of self-destruction, may we, by God's grace, choose life. May His life in us be a stark contrast to the death and destruction of sin. Choose life...

Lessons in the frost

One morning last winter I awoke to heavy frost encasing the trees outside my window. The juxtaposition of frozen coldness and fragile filaments of beauty reminded me again of the wonders of the created world. What struck me most that day, however, was the heaviness created by the jungle of frost-encrusted branches. Unadorned, the same twigs, though very visible, were easy to overlook. The bulky overcoat they wore that day gave them a weighty presence that could not be ignored.

Life is much the same - complex, intricate, a tangle of branches and twigs - all reaching, going, growing out from the roots imbedded and unseen below the surface. At times the complexities, though visible, go un-noticed as we focus on the mundane matters of daily life. At other times the reality of the tangle of events, emotions, choices, and relationships that comprise this existence we call life seem overpowering in their presence.

I watched on that wintry day as the sun eased its way above the frozen horizon and touched the frosty, grey trees. The response was subtle but immediate. Cold heaviness transformed into irridescent majesty. Fragments of colour danced, sparkled, and glistened in a unified celebration of life.

How like God in His grace to dress every aspect of our complex lives with the splendor of His purposes, His love, and His forgiveness.

Ever-enlarging enough

"There are good things God must delay giving until his child has a pocket to hold them... He must first make him fit to receive and to have. There is no part of our nature that shall not be satisfied - and satisfied no by lessening it, but by enlarging it to embrace and ever-enlarging enough." George MacDonald