August Letter from Pastor Don

I really enjoy trees. I love hiking in the woods, especially in the winter, in part because the unique structure of each tree isn’t hidden by a leafy canopy. When I look at the barren branches I wonder, “what made that branch grow in that direction, or twist that particular way?” Each tree is unique in the way it grows, shaped by its environment, affected by its experiences... something like us.
 
There’s a tree in the evergreen family called “Madrone,” or “Mandrona” (arbutus menziesii) that grows along the Pacific coastal area from California to Canada, and what I find interesting is the twisting and winding ways in which it grows (probably from the coastal winds), and its flaky bark.

Most trees have thick bark made up of dead cells that protect them from pests, disease, and water loss, but not the Madrone tree. The Madrona tree’s bark is flaky. It cracks and peels away letting us see their growing edges. Biologists aren’t sure why Madronas are so quick to shed their bark—some speculate it’s to fight against fungi which proliferate in the moist environments Madronas call home.
 
Also, the Madrona tree, like many others, utilizes a large underground network of mycelium to exchange water and nutrients between plants. This community of tree roots can even keep stumps alive for years and have led to “dead” trees sending up new shoots through the ground and resurrecting the tree.
 
We can learn a lot from trees, particularly the Madrona tree.
 
First, vulnerability is not weak. It’s an honest way to be healthy. Instead of a thick crusty exterior meant to protect us from the world around us, but which also holds in destructive dis-ease, we can honestly reveal our growing edges and expedite maturity. But being vulnerable can also invite attacks. I recently shared (albeit in a rather vague way on Facebook—sometimes called “vaguebooking”) my emotional distress on social media (not the best place to do such a thing), and I was rebuffed for revealing my vulnerability and not being more “positive.” It’s as if radical independence and toxic positivity are the norm. But this way of thinking can cause “terminal uniqueness”—believing we’re the only one feeling this way, thinking this way, living this way—which leads to suffering alone.
 
While our culture sees anything less than radical independence as weakness, the New Testament repeatedly stresses the opposite. Our culture values wealth, fame and power, but the upside down of gospel logic sees something different. From Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) to the words of Jesus, and in the letters of Paul (1 Corinth. 1:27) we are repeatedly told that what appears to be weakness is strength; that wealth is not evidence of blessing, but a problem; that the proud will be humbled and the humble exalted, and that the first will be last and the last, first in a kingdom that has come near, not just some eschatalogical hereafter, but being built in the world now.
 
Second, we learn that community (and connection to our community) is key to our survival and prosperity, not as individuals, but as the whole. Ultimately, our wealth is not in individual accomplishment—who grows the tallest or has the largest canopy—it’s in the shared wealth of the community. A healthy community values service to others. Jesus said, “…the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28, Mark 10:45, John 13:1-17) In community we share burdens and celebrations, we show up for each other in times of need, and we build one another up. Insulating oneself with wealth, strength and power might seem like a recipe for success, but the gospel message of Jesus would suggest otherwise. So do the trees.
 
So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go for a walk and see what the trees have to say. Wanna come?

Pastor Don Long, Jr.