Faith Like a Peach Tree

I have a few things on my mind these days. Among other things, I am deliberating a call, which some churches might call a position offer, to serve a new church in South Texas. There are some positives to taking the position and some positives to staying. Each has negatives as well. Like the song says, "Should I stay or should I go?" The answer is: it depends on who you ask.

The weather is also rapidly changing, with temperatures falling like spilled coffee off a table. Over the next three nights, temps will tumble into the mid twenties for four-to-six hours at a time. That's not good for South Texas. I always get anxious about a waterline freezing and bursting, but I've covered and wrapped and prepped the pipes and faucets. I think it'll work. There is a big problem, though, and it's outside my control. My peach tree is in full bloom, loaded with beautiful blossoms and buds, leaves poking their green wings out like a butterfly bursting from the chrysalis. 

My tree is 20 feet tall and almost as wide. I didn't get it pruned this winter because I hurt my knee last fall and then my back in January, making climbing a ladder and clipping branches an impossible task. Although someone offered to help, I wanted to do it myself. To spin the old phrase, "pride cameth before the big freeze." Now, unable to wrap it up because of its sheer size, plus my owies, I am at the mercy of God to spare my tree. 

Doesn't that sound weird, to entrust a tree to the Lord's care, to speak of faith in the realm of fruit, to speak of peaches when struggling with peace? Our Lord spoke of faith, saying that the flowers fade, the grass wilts, yet the Word of the Lord endures forever. As such, one can always trust the promises of God. He also tells us to cast our cares on Him, for He cares for us. Finally, He also cares for His creation: the birds of the air neither sow nor reap, yet the Lord feeds them. If that's true of flowers and grass, it is also true for my peach tree.

The Lord watches over my peach tree. When the flowers blossom, when they turn into fruit, when the peaches ripen and are eaten or fall to the ground to die and rise as a new tree, the Lord knows, cares for, watches over His creation. He watches my tree. Even tonight, and tomorrow, and the next night, as temperatures fall and things freeze, the Lord watches. It is likely that my tree, a fallen piece of creation, will freeze one or all those nights, blossoms will die, and buds will be damaged. The Lord will know, and He will care. It is possible the tree will still produce a limited crop, but it will most likely be minimized by a quarter, a third, even a half. 

Yet, even then, the Lord will watch and care for my tree. 

If He cares for my tree, how much more will He care for me? 

I've been sweating how to protect my tree. I came to the realization that I can't help it. It's out of my hands - figuratively and literally. As I passed under it's branches and blossoms, I realized this: the tree isn't worried at all. Today, it stood tall in the damp, muggy air. As I write, the North wind is announcing it's noisy entrance, rattling the window screens and making noise in the vent hood. The tree is still standing tall, branches waiving in welcome to Nanuk's chilly breath. It's not panicking, not worried, not wringing its apical meristem in fear. It's just being a tree. And in a way that we will not understand as people, the tree trusts the Lord's care. 

That was my lesson today. The Lord is taking care of the tree, right now, as temperatures fall and the wind howls outside my window. He's taking care of me. It might be a little uncomfortable right now, and there may be difficult choices to be made, but He will lead through it even as I carry my cares and concerns to Him, trusting with faith the size of a peach pit. 

And, hopefully, there will be a peach of an answer.