Deciduous

There’s something beautiful to me about this tree. 

Even in its emptiness. 

Especially in its emptiness. 

Its barren branches exposing its structure, exposing its strength. 

There’s something beautifully striking about seeing it open and exposed, raw and vulnerable. 

There’s something beautifully revealing about seeing it uncovered…

Is this me?  Perhaps it’s you.

In preparation for winter survival and spring regrowth, deciduous trees, like this one, shed their leaves.  As their colors begin to change, temperatures begin to drop and rains begin to cease, these trees develop a layer of cells between their leaf stems and their branches.  This new layer will protect them from the harshness of the upcoming season by shutting cold out and sealing water in.  It initiates the process of preventing the leaves from, ultimately, being able to nourish or create food for the tree.  In time, this layer cuts the leaves off by stopping nutrient and water flow.  With its leaves fallen to the ground or blown away in the wind, this tree, expending no more energy, now rests for a season.      

Deciduous.  Falling off at maturity. 

Deciduous.  Dropping a part that is no longer useful. 

Deciduous.  Falling away after its purpose is complete. 

Is this you?  Perhaps it’s me.

“And they were both naked…and were not ashamed…”

Basking in the sun/Son through blooming spring and lengthy summer days, we live freely, serve gladly, pray fervently, give generously and study frequently.  We gloriously commune with God in the cool of each new day.  We faithfully tend to our gardens: our homes, our families, our ministries, our communities, our jobs. 

Until…

“So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree desirable to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate.”

We start to admire the fruit of our labors.  So plentiful.  So pleasing.  Hungry for the forbidden fruit of pride, which has grown unnoticed and gone unpruned, we eat its deception: income, possessions, status, followers.  We begin to seek fulfillment from the fruit instead of sustainment from the Root. 

And then the seasons change…          

Fall.

The fall…of man.

Deciduous.

Perhaps this is us.

“Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings.”

“…and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.  Then the Lord God called to Adam and said to him, ‘Where are you?’ So he said, ‘I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; and I hid myself.’”

I must admit, when I stopped by this tree to take its picture, I identified with its emptiness.  There were so many things that I didn’t have and hadn’t accomplished.  This tree symbolized all that was not.  There, by the side of the road, I wondered about this tree, about this life.  Like this tree, I concluded, we too face seasonal deciduousness.  Seasons described by their losses, marked by their nakedness. 

But like Eve in the Garden, I hear God saying, “Who told you that you were naked?”  

There, by the side of the road, I realized that, if I’m not careful, I’ll consume the fruit of my own success and then attempt to dress myself with my lifestyle, with the leaves that I believe define my worth and confirm my purpose. 

There, by the side of the road, my perspective shifted.  Perhaps I am, perhaps we are, beautiful to God barren.  Open and exposed, raw and vulnerable.  Uncovered.  Perhaps our nakedness is by His divine design, intended to strip off external identities and temporal validations, revealing our true, (super)natural inner selves.  Meant to make us God-conscious instead of self-conscious, perhaps it’s development of a II Peter 1:5-8 layer.  Perhaps it’s a season of preparation.

Winter’s coming.  The climate of our world is changing.  The winds of temptation and adversity are blowing.  I must accept that there are things in my life and in my character that will not serve the purpose of God in my next season and, therefore, must drop off. I must decide not to hide in fear and, in my insecurity, question God’s love, intent, protection and provision. I don’t want my confidence in God to be determined by the quantity and quality of the baring of the tree.  I want to be firmly rooted in Jesus, knowing that, at the right time, in its due season, the tree, my life, will again manifest and multiply all that it was created to be. 

I’m learning that, sometimes the season is about sustaining the fullness on the inside instead of preserving the fullness on the outside.

PRINCIPLE: “Then I passed by you and saw you, and behold, you were at the time for love; so I spread My skirt over you and covered your nakedness. I also swore to you and entered into a covenant with you so that you became Mine,” declares the Lord God.  Ezekiel 16:8