Beauty and the bark

The tree outside my window is dying.  Granted, it’s taking a long time, but it’s certainly not healthy.  Each winter, I expect this non-bearing fruit tree to give up, but at the right time and much to my surprise, each spring the blossoms appear.

As I come in close to take a photo, the disparity between the lichen-covered branches and the fresh blossoms is noticeable.  Delicate, white petals contrast the gnarly, rough bark.

It’s a good visual metaphor for spiritual life. 

This past week, I’ve felt a bit like those branches.  I’ve had a number of little reminders of my mortality, of the brevity of the life that’s given to us.  As well, there are days when the striving – for clarity of purpose, for impact, for connection – seems to feel like the work of a bud pressing through ironclad bark.

But these branches remind me that my soul was meant for eternity.  Today, while reading a letter by an anonymous early church father (credited to the name Mathetes, which simply means disciple), I came across these words:

     The immortal soul dwells in a mortal tabernacle; and Christians dwell as sojourners in corruptible [bodies], looking for an incorruptible dwelling in the heavens.

It’s the sojourning that’s been bugging me -- the transitory nature of life on this planet.  But how much better it is to know that we’re not destined to remain in this decaying frame.  The immortality that God’s Spirit brings us is bursting to bring us into incorruptible life.

 

These blooms say to me: the eternal spring is coming!

Lord, this tree gives testimony to the beauty of new life.  And our hearts rejoice at the glory of the reawakened life revealed in spring.  Father, we long to be done with the tyranny of time and decline.  You promise that day will come.  Until then, let your life in us be as visible and attractive as spring blossoms.