We were driving down the road. Well, he drove and I stared out the window.
Someone had asked me, "What is God saying to you lately?" The question danced through my mind as I grasped for His words, searched for their order.
What has He been saying to me? My eyes skimmed the sidewalk. Cold concrete blankly whirring by like the contents of my mind. I closed my eyes, then looked again.
What are You saying to me? Colorful leaves, descended from the tree tops were piled high in the gutter. I love fall foliage. How amazing that in this part of California I get to see any. Leaves so varied in shape, size, and color. I could gather all of them up and marvel endlessly.
My gaze drifted upward. From gutter leaves to tree trunks to tree tops. Strong sturdy frames, bare and graceful branches. Trees: firmly rooted, uniquely shaped, no fuss or dressing. When the leaves fall away, when all the color and pomp and fruit expires in season, I am able to see the tree--see it for what it really is. I knew the tree was a reflection of me, and I heard the Lord say, "Remember who you are."
I started to recite the words you know I love: "I am a tree... planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. I do not fear when heat comes; my leaves are always green. I have no worries in a year of drought; I never fail to bear fruit."*
"He has planted me in the house of the Lord, I flourish in the courts of my God."**
This is the identity He's given me. Through years of {re-}planting, pruning, and shaping He has taught me this: I am His, created for a purpose, never abandoned, well-watered, securely established. No matter how I may be decorated with leaves and fruit, no matter how well my frame is hidden by thick foliage, when it all falls away, I do not change, diminish in value, become ravished, or stand ashamed. I know who I am because I am His.
"Remember who you are."
It's extremely scary to stand exposed-- vulnerable to the elements, open to critique, bare in the midst of full-boughed, celebrated trees. It can seem as though the surrounding forest stays ever-green, unpruned, wildly unchecked. It's uncomfortable; I am tempted to crumble. But if I am a tree, who am I to advise the Gardener? Not only is this an identity, it's a standard for behavior.
Because I know who God says I am, I act appropriately.
If I am a tree, I will stand secure and tall. I will bend gracefully. I will house a bird and her nest. I will support the tired soul who leans on my trunk in repose. I will breathe life as it is breathed into me, refreshing {not polluting} the air. I will dance in the breeze. I will point upward. I will not worry. I will not be afraid.
Remember who you are, whether your branches are full or barren. Remember who you are and flourish with beauty. Remember who you are and love fully. Remember who you are and know He will not let you stand in shame.
*Jeremiah 17:7-8
**Psalm 92:13
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