Matthew 13:32
There is a valley, and in that valley there are thousands of trees. These trees, at first look, could be described as twisted, chipped, and ugly. But if one was curious enough to look inside the branches, he would find squirrels and birds nestled comfortably within their reach. The birds would fly away and disappear, but with time and patience, would always be sure to return.
If that person would look at a tree even closer, he would find the smallest of seeds resting on its fingers, ready to be carried by the wind to spread a new generation. Some seeds would fall closer, within the valley's high walls. Others' paths would be destined to run up the steep slopes and find their own roots wherever the wind chose to carry them. While some seeds would be used as feed for the other wildlife, others would be saved. Some seeds would fall as soon as allowed and eagerly take their place. But several stubborn seeds would bounce along, now and again chipping their shield, before finding safety in the soft, rich ground.
The saplings would stand. While one sprout would stand close to an older tree, another would grow beside one its own age. Our adventurer would probably view those two trees growing together as crowding, or maybe as an agreement to work together to do better good.
The great vine with the red, sharp thorns would grow at rapid rates, eagerly and earnestly destroying everything it possibly could. Its grotesque fingers would cross the entire valley trying to find the weakness in every tree. The vine would circle one tree slowly, steadily sucking the life out of it, while one of its numerous fingers would scratch the brittle bark, tearing it limb from limb. The Sun would then fry the creeping plant, and it would fall limply from its victim. Sometimes, the Sun seemed to be too late. What if our Sun had risen a few minutes earlier, when the innocent might have been saved? It's just the way the world turns. Several would die while chosen ones would live with numerous, deep scratches, occasionally with the thorn still in the wound.
Every tree would have a niche. While selected ones were for providing shelter, a different tree could be for providing food. A tree's roots could loosen soil, making a home for a lonely badger or a homeland for several of the new seeds. Although a beautiful tree would prove empty for a disappointed owl, the lovely petals on the little flowers below would make the bird curious enough to wonder what else was in the neighborhood and send it searching. Amazingly enough, the dead would prove useful. The tree could be picked clean to make a nest for a couple of baby chicks. But what better gift could a deceased tree ask to give, than to be burned in the fire of our weary traveler as he sits staring into the flames and wonders about our awesome God?
There is a valley, and in that valley there are thousands of trees. These trees, at first look, could be described as twisted, chipped, and ugly. But if one was curious enough to look inside the branches, he would find squirrels and birds nestled comfortably within their reach. The birds would fly away and disappear, but with time and patience, would always be sure to return.
If that person would look at a tree even closer, he would find the smallest of seeds resting on its fingers, ready to be carried by the wind to spread a new generation. Some seeds would fall closer, within the valley's high walls. Others' paths would be destined to run up the steep slopes and find their own roots wherever the wind chose to carry them. While some seeds would be used as feed for the other wildlife, others would be saved. Some seeds would fall as soon as allowed and eagerly take their place. But several stubborn seeds would bounce along, now and again chipping their shield, before finding safety in the soft, rich ground.
The saplings would stand. While one sprout would stand close to an older tree, another would grow beside one its own age. Our adventurer would probably view those two trees growing together as crowding, or maybe as an agreement to work together to do better good.
The great vine with the red, sharp thorns would grow at rapid rates, eagerly and earnestly destroying everything it possibly could. Its grotesque fingers would cross the entire valley trying to find the weakness in every tree. The vine would circle one tree slowly, steadily sucking the life out of it, while one of its numerous fingers would scratch the brittle bark, tearing it limb from limb. The Sun would then fry the creeping plant, and it would fall limply from its victim. Sometimes, the Sun seemed to be too late. What if our Sun had risen a few minutes earlier, when the innocent might have been saved? It's just the way the world turns. Several would die while chosen ones would live with numerous, deep scratches, occasionally with the thorn still in the wound.
Every tree would have a niche. While selected ones were for providing shelter, a different tree could be for providing food. A tree's roots could loosen soil, making a home for a lonely badger or a homeland for several of the new seeds. Although a beautiful tree would prove empty for a disappointed owl, the lovely petals on the little flowers below would make the bird curious enough to wonder what else was in the neighborhood and send it searching. Amazingly enough, the dead would prove useful. The tree could be picked clean to make a nest for a couple of baby chicks. But what better gift could a deceased tree ask to give, than to be burned in the fire of our weary traveler as he sits staring into the flames and wonders about our awesome God?