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Lesson from the Oaks “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.” Psalm 1:1-3 The wildflower- and grass-covered hill beckons me upward toward the ancient oak trees that dot the landscape. Feeling strong and sure like the mightiest of the oaks, I anticipate the climb as it challenges my muscles. Each muscle meets the challenge with strength and confidence and I feel tough, like an oak tree. I brim with joy in the bright morning sunshine of this cloudless day. From a distance I savor the beauty of the green oaks as their branches reach up as if to glorify their creator with praise. I do the same. Before long my breath draws deep as the trail winds up at a steeper angle. I begin to feel the limits of my own strength; still, I continue on and the oaks come into clearer focus as I draw close. I notice most of the oaks are healthy with broad branches brimming with green leaves, but some appear to be infected with a parasite. I observe a hanging moss that drapes from some branches rendering them dead, dry, and bare. Some of the trees wither under the moss with little or no life left, yet most continue to thrive. Still a closer look reveals that almost all the trees have a bit of moss on an outermost branch here or there. The boughs cry out for a gardener to prune the parasite and dead wood. Their strength is sapped, and the infecting moss hinders the growth of these giants. I feel tough like a strong thriving oak tree, but I wonder what parasite needs to be pruned from my life? I resist the thought. What difference does it make? A few dead decaying outermost branches are hardly noticeable so I just forget them and focus on the beautiful fruitful branches. I’m strong in so many areas. I’m sure I can handle it. As I continue my hike, I reach the crest of the hill and begin the downward trek. A light breeze at my back cools my body, and gravity assists my muscles with each long, reaching stride. Like the birds overhead, I feel as if I am soaring down the hill. But I am caught up short and abruptly halt my decent. My attention is drawn to a newly fallen oak—one of the biggest, one of the oldest, broken off at its decayed trunk. It lies dead with each branch covered with the remnants of moss. Again, the question enters my mind, “What parasite needs to be pruned from my life?” What sinful activity saps my strength? What rebellious attitude limits my fruitfulness? What careless words wither my relationships? What bitterness poisons my soul? God reminds me I must remain alert to sinful parasites that can limit my effectiveness in the His kingdom. He reminds me that I must continually be willing to submit to the Gardener’s pruning shears and allow him to remove each unfruitful branch. I must guard against sin and never tolerate it, for even the “smallest” sin in the most obscure corner of my life gives Satan a foothold, weakens my resolve, and renders me unproductive in Christ’s service—for sin is never satisfied with an obscure corner. Cyndie Hamley
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