Humility

Today I sat upon a stump.

The stump laid in the wood.

I surveyed the scene before me,

Silence

...Silence

Bird!

Silence….

Wind

Bird and Wind

Branches creaking in the wind

Birds flying

Branches creaking in the wind/bird

...Silence

That's when it caught my eye

There was a tree before me

There were many in fact

But I happened to notice this one

Not for any particular reason.

It was a tree in its basic form,

Nothing unique

Nothing distinct

Not large or grand

Not quite petite

It was just low enough

To avoid the wind.

I gazed upon that silent tree.

Standing still in its calm surroundings.

It gazed upwards upon those who came before

It gazed down upon their golden leaves.

It was not quite bald,

But definitely receding.

I watched as a bird landed on one deserted branch

And nodded as it spotted me in its round eye

It ascended to escape

I crept closer

Reaching to touch

Feeling the thin bark

Noting its smooth texture

Broken by rough bumps

My hand glided curiously over a knot

The tree did not move

I examined a small ant climbing triumphantly

What did it expect to find?

The tree did not move

I pulled on a branch

Testing it's strength

Letting it adjust

To the addition of my weight

Obediently the branch gave, just a bit

The tree did not move.

Employing my muscles, along with a jump

I less then gracefully began my ascent.

I casually pushed branches away

Some bended

Some fell dead

I trudged ahead

Aiming for the top.

Then I stopped.

Looking down and around

Even from this height

I was surprised at the quality

And superiority of the sight.

I was above so much, and below just a few

I could see much further...

The tree did not move.

With unexpected fury

A gust bestowed the tree with life

I eagerly hugged tight

The tree swayed, but did not give.

We rocked, playing in the storm

The branches laughed with a  crackle

I grinned

The wind stopped...

We were still again.

As I walked my winding path

That had led me to my stump

I began to see oranges and yellows

And pinks and purples

Peaking through the bald branches

I could no longer see the tree.

*****

What does a tree see?  It see's more then we ever see. 

A tree is above most everything, but it never acts in superiority.

The tree knows it's purpose and in it stands firm.  It does not waiver at small distractions, but it is not so proud as to ignore all interaction.

It dances in the wind and laughs in the breeze.

It gives just a bit when you need it to.

But it always stands firm in its purpose.

Humility is often seen a lowly thing.  Many think they must grovel and beg.

That is not humility.

Humility is living distinctly for your purpose.

It is contentment.

It is wisdom.

It is an ability to see things as they are.  To find your place within them, to except them.  You must adapt to the changes of the world with just a subtle give, a subtle bend, but never fully sway.

Take the tree that is brittle and old.  The tree that is dry and rotting.  The wind blows and it breaks.  The end.

To be humble we do not pretend we are greater then the wind.  We give just enough, but stand firm (in the end).

As Christ stood before the Pharisees he did not give.

He did not cower.

But he did bend.  He excepted their abuse and moved with their push, but never did he fully release - except to the will of the LORD.  His beliefs stood firm and his story rang true.

Even to the blow of the axe the tree stands firm in its purpose.  And still it dances in the wind.  Even in each devastating shock, it knows its purpose is not to resist, but to give.  And finally it ends.  The tree falls, but its story still lives.  It finds new purpose, and performs, as always, exactly as it should.

Christ Jesus, with a blow of the nail.  Cries out, but doesn't resist.  He leans on the story of the tree.  Trusting its strength that does not give.  And even when he suffers in his end, and his final draw rattles thin…his story lives.  He finds new purpose, and performs, as always, exactly as he should.