There are certain trees that grab my attention. One such tree is a solitary oak that stands along a path that I like to walk along in the morning. The branches are bare now, so the framework of the tree is exposed and visible. The oak reaches upward about 45 feet. The branches spread outward nearly the same distance as it is tall. It is an imposing image on the landscape. Inviting, not threatening.
Something about the bare structure of the oak invites me. It is beautiful in its nakedness. As it stands open to all who pass, it is solid. It knows itself and is not ashamed. This is how I want to be. I want to know myself and be “okay” with what I know. Sometimes I can say this to myself, other times I forget. When I forget, the noisy voices in my head want to convince me that what I know about myself is not “okay,” that I “ought” to be this or “should” be that. Then I want to hide and protect, cover up.
But that is not how I want to live my life, always covered up and hidden. Like the oak, there is a season for that, but there is a season of uncovering and of seeing what my underneath looks like. And upon looking, I want to be “okay” with what I see because I know that God is “okay” with it. That is what will make me strong and solid, an imposing spiritual image on the landscape of life—one that is inviting, but not threatening.
Day eighteen of the Thirty Days of Seeing
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