Many poets have used the tree to symbolize those human characteristics that are deemed to be fine and noble. In 1972, while traveling through the great forests of the Western United States, I was again reminded of that symbolism. The almost endless number of species reminded me of the many personalities that make up the Christian church. The church is really a mighty forest growing in the midst of a great desert.

When great winds blow, the entire forest comes alive as treetops sway to and fro in the wind. Even gentle evening breezes will cause the leaves to stir. But when great stillness fills the forest, all motion ceases. All motion? Well, on the western prairies and high plains, one can find a tree whose leaves stir when almost imperceptible breezes blow. Known as the trembling or quaking aspen, its leaves are so sensitive to the movement of air that it appears to tremble.

Ever since the Pentecost experience, the church has relied on its trembling aspens. Those who have been extremely sensitive to the moving of the Spirit have given direction to the movement of the body of Christ. When the church is not in tune with God, it lies still and begins to stagnate.

Most trees require very favorable conditions to survive, and if the conditions aren't just right the species does not flourish. There are a few trees that can flourish in a hostile environment. One such tree is the limber pine, which grows at extremely high altitudes, in desert-like areas, and on giant lava beds surrounding extinct volcanoes. A twisted and gnarled old tree, it takes root even while more primitive plant forms are beginning to grow. After many thousands of years, when conditions become favorable to other species, the limber pine disappears. In the natural succession of plant life, its only purpose is to prepare the way for others.

The church has always had its limber pines, those who live only on the cutting edge of Christianity. Such men as John the Baptist, St. Paul, Martin Luther, Pope John XXIII, and Martin Luther King are examples that come to mind. Who are the emerging limber pines of our day? Only history will determine the answer to that question.

In the long-range scheme of things, trees are fairly short lived. One notable exception is the giant redwood, the patriarch of the forest, which almost seems to possess eternal life. Although it has a humble beginning as a small seed from a relatively small cone, it grows slowly but steadily into a magnificent structure. A large redwood can even withstand the intense heat of a forest fire because of the insulating quality of its thick bark. There are specimens of redwoods that have had their very hearts burned out by fire and still survived the holocaust.

At higher elevations, one can find large stands of the lodgepole pine, so called because the Native Americans often used the long thin trunks to build their lodges. The trees are so thin that the ones along the edge of a clearing often bend over because they cannot carry the weight of their own branches.

It is easy to recognize the patriarchs in our midst. They are the durable giants of the faith who are found in all congregations. We all aspire to their great examples. However, most of us are like the lodgepole pine. We cannot stand alone, or the burdens weigh us down. Only when we have the support of the other trees, can we remain erect and tall.

The lodgepole pine has a very hard cone that may lie on the ground for many years before its shell breaks open, and the seeds are released to germinate and grow. A forest fire is sufficiently hot to break open the shell and allow the seeds to be spread so that the forest may be renewed.

Because of the drastic reduction in our forest reserves, we have been led to believe that all forest fires are undesirable. We know that carelessly caused fires are very destructive. Yet, foresters tell us that some naturally caused fires are essential for renewal of the stand. If underbrush is allowed to accumulate to excess, the fires will burn much hotter. Few trees can survive these conflagrations. However, small fires burn out much of this underbrush and do not allow it to accumulate. Also, fires cleanse the forest of diseases that can literally wipe out many species. Today the forest service even practices controlled burning to keep the forest healthy.

Yes, the church is a great forest. Sometimes it is healthy, and sometimes it is not. Occasionally we need a fire to clear away the underbrush of trappings that cause us to place our trust in the wrong things. The disease of sin must be burned out so that the forest may be nurtured into a healthy stand. Most importantly, we must have our shells cracked open so that the seed may be spread and planted to renew the forest. If renewal does not occur, the forest dies. Nothing will remain but a few petrified logs, lying in the heat of the desert sun

Copyright © by Jay D. Weaver 1972