Plant Trees
FOR ME THIS IS A PERIOD OF GREAT NATIONAL PAIN. I am heartbroken that in every aspect of our lives we are being closed in by an autocracy of American’s own choosing. Each day the price of freedom becomes more expensive. Our country is choosing its own captivity.
We have passed the stages of listening and persuasion about future possibilities. The realities are in our streets, at our stores, in our new sense of needing to be cautious of the surveillance around us. And in the midst of this, I have been asking God what the current guidance is for us.
It is clear that the basic guidance is to step up our God-filled actions. Kindness to everyone is now a soldierly mandate. Generosity and compassion are our marching orders. Non-violence of words and actions is mandatory in the face of myriads of assaults upon our be-ings. Laying down our lives for a sister or brother is no longer a euphemism, it is a daily possibility. Prayer, spiritual groundedness and spiritual community are no longer niceties of the spiritual life; they are essential to sustain the work ahead of us.
But Spirit has opened another dimension to me. A couple days ago, I turned over in bed as I was soaking in those last delicious moments of rest before rising. And the Spirit phrase that popped into my consciousness was “plant trees.” I settled back down into my pillows to reflect on what this might mean.
My mind went to the prophet Jeremiah. I thought about how he bought land and planted trees before his beloved city was destroyed and his people were exiled into Babylonian captivity. As it turns out, my biblical remembering was wrong. He was imprisoned when he bought the family land—and he didn’t have an opportunity to plant trees on it. But the motion was the same. He acted for a future that most likely neither he nor his children would ever see or benefit from. He took a step of obedience for what would come “after.”
Yes, there were grand promises of God’s restoration, but they were 70 or more years away. Jeremiah’s guidance in his present painful reality was “and-too.” “Yes” to the present struggle of each day. The exhaustion of daily faithfulness in hostile environment. But there is also a call to have an eye to contributing to what comes after. There is always an “after” though we may not live to see it. So I have been thinking about what are the “trees” I could plant for future goodness? How could I use my giftedness and circumstances to bless the unseen future? The queries I have been mulling are:
What are the “trees” we are planting that will bear fruit long after we are gone?
In the lives of our grandchildren and great grandchildren?
In our environment?
In our communities?
In our communities of faith?
What are we investing in that pays eternal dividends?
