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Bare tree

Ruby J. Cleroux

A few trees were still speckled with gold and copper even though fall winds had swept most of the summer’s leaves away. Inside the church sanctuary, vivid harvest displays blazed brightly for the Thanksgiving and missions festival, and tubs of greenery provided the suggestion of “life”.


As I sat in meditation that Sunday, my attention abruptly focused on a single tree which stood toward the back of the display. The incongruity of it startled me, yet it was strangely fascinating. The tree was quite ordinary, quite grey and quite dead. Its pitifully naked limbs appeared to reach out in supplication. As I stared, my thoughts became jumbled, and my soul felt exposed. Without warning, tears filled my eyes, and with them came an uneasy but liberating recognition: I identified with that bare tree.

I had come to worship, but on this day of celebration, I had not been able to form an attitude of thanksgiving for God’s abundant provision throughout the year. I acknowledged that my heart was empty except for the uninvited grief which had crammed every parched and colourless corner since my husband’s sudden call home to be with Jesus. I was alone, hollow, and unproductive – like the tree.

Surrounded by lavish bounty, the tree became, in its portrayal of lifelessness, the symbol to which I could relate. People who are suffering personal upheaval often are unable to participate in life’s majestic moments because they can find no connecting link between beauty and “the beast”. Our churches might examine how the two can be reconciled. One way might be the use of music, Scriptures, testimonies, responsive readings and prayers specifically planned to touch the needs of hurting individuals.

Certainly a bruised heart can expose some hard questions. Why do I attend the worship service in my church? There are probably many reasons: To have my hunger satisfied by being filled with God Himself. Out of obedience, duty or habit. To measure my spiritual growth and confront sin. To renew commitment. To receive instruction. To safely mourn. To praise God in adoration and gratitude. To honestly share needs and encouragement in fellowship and sharing times.

During sharing times in worship, do we participate mainly by celebrating our successes? Is it helpful for others to hear that I am doing well “because God has blessed me”? (If there are known needs left untouched in our midst, is our worship even acceptable to God?) Is it enough to give thanks only in mountaintop experiences (which stir spontaneous praise anyway)? If so, how am I to deal with life’s tragedies, with the realities of change and decay which lurk beneath the surface of everything splendid and which are inevitable on planet earth? Eventually, each of us needs to access the message of hope that lies buried in the depths of torn dreams and stark futures.

What does it mean to worship? I didn’t find answers as I rummaged in the rubble. Instead, because of a bare tree, I began to understand that my communion with God (and His with me) is vital, especially when I’m feeling fear, confusion, anger, apathy, grief, burn-out or despair. Experiencing gratitude to God in the midst of profound pain is worship in the deepest sense.

In a church service, a single verse of Scripture, an altar call, a prayer for unspoken needs or a meaningful line in a chorus or hymn can be the catalyst that triggers interaction . . . which in turn will soon result in praise. Why? Because God meets me where I am. It is as though He looks deep into my eyes and whispers for my ears only, “It’s okay. I’m here. I understand. I care.” – and then I am released to worship. I can then say with the Psalmist, “I will be glad and rejoice in Your love, for You saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul” (Psalm 31:7).

Jeremiah 17:5-8 reads: “This is what the LORD says: ‘Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when the heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” It is true that God requires my trust if He is to bless me; that He wants to be the life-giving Stream that sustains me; that He has planted me in a spiritual family where we can share burdens and blessings; and that He wills me to be productive, even in “a year of drought”. Responding to Him in total and continuous surrender is worship in which He takes pleasure.

A bare tree can be beautiful when it points to the certainty of change and to the faithfulness of God in every season of life. Do our houses of worship offer enough symbolic bare trees – enough connecting links that evoke full participation in worship?

Ruby Cleroux is a member of Vauxhall (Alta.) MB Church.

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Last modified April 18, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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