The situation became more and more serious. Our tall, robust Smoke Bush, located next to our deck, began to look unhealthy in early June. By mid-July, it was obvious something was impacting its well-being. After a detailed process of elimination, we realized it had contracted a somewhat rare wilt . . . that is usually terminal.
This large bush [or small tree] had grown from a healthy young sapling we planted the first spring we lived at this house 24 years ago. Saddened, we accepted that it was only a matter of time the remainder of the healthy, burnished, burgundy leaves would fall to the ground.
One summer afternoon, my beloved trimmed away all the dead foliage, which left several exposed branches. Because the birds have always loved to perch in the bush as they await their turn at the feeders, we wanted to keep as much of it as possible. In the meantime, we decided to wait until fall and cooler weather to remove the limbs and trunk and then maybe plant a different species of small tree in its place.
Well, that has all changed . . . low and behold, a couple weeks later we began to see new leaves on one branch, and then more. What a delightful surprise!
One aspect of this experience that gets my attention is that to observe the bush in its previous condition one could never have imagined the new life that was to spring forth. The potential for this to occur was truly hidden in plain sight. The exterior said one thing. The interior had a completely different idea of the possibilities.
All of which brings me to our human “condition.”
Based upon the promises of God as described in Scripture, Christians understand the hope of a resurrected life, that we will be given new bodies when we enter our home in Heaven. Fact of the matter, many of us believe this, yet find the whole concept filled with unknowing and mystery. Really? How will all of this look and feel?
As with many things Divine, the process of ageing brings a lot of this closer to reality. The decrease of the vigorous green growth and bloom of our youth—our energy, our smooth skin, the agility and strength of our bones and muscles—could give us the impression our bodies are fading away. And yes, that is truer than we would like to admit.
On the other hand, what if we were to really take God’s promise to heart:
Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” [John 11:25-26]
Maybe we have a lot more in common with the Smoke Bush than we realize. Maybe it suggests we need to trust and believe even when what we see with our eyes is only a small part of the bigger picture. Maybe the Lord wants us to embrace his way, his plan. For all of creation. For you. For me.
It would be easy enough to believe this isn’t always the way things end, for plants or for people. At the same time, my sense is that Jesus didn’t simply talk to hear his own voice. He fully embraced what his Father—our Father—taught him, and longed to pass on to us. If that isn’t love imbued with promise, I don’t know what is.
Is it difficult for me to believe and trust Jesus? Why?
How do I feel about resurrection life?
Can I ask the Lord to help me embrace the promise of hidden life?
