Northwest Arkansas, where Tara and I both lived much of our childhood and adulthood, experienced a serious ice storm on January 26-27, 2009. After more than an inch of ice built up on trees and power lines, God began pruning trees for hours, filling the air with the sound of cannon shot and blasts. Many across the area went without power for 3-4 days, while others still are just getting power some 3 weeks later. As we continue to clean up the area, front yards are filled with stacks of wood, awaiting help from our local government in hauling it all away.
Today I jogged through some of the oldest residential areas of Fayetteville, Arkansas. Because the areas are older they are filled with old growth trees. What was remarkable was that I felt as though I was seeing many homes I had never before seen, even though I had jogged the same streets dozens of times. And, of course, I reflected on this and that is why I am writing now.
The trees have always been beautiful, but they hid something. Some homes had so many trees filling their yards, one could drive and jog past them and hardly see that anyone lived in the spaces the trees occupied. It took a great hardship – the loss of so many large branches and many trees completely – to begin to see what lay behind. Homes, of course, are a symbol of the life and heart of those who reside there.
I think many of us live behind a lot of “cover.” We plant trees in front of our hearts to hide what lies inside. We fear our nakedness and put up much more than fig leaves to prevent a clear view of who we are. What begins as a nice garden often becomes an unruly forest completely obscuring all access to the real us.
It becomes so heavily overgrown that we get to the point where we can’t get out as well and only when great tragedy occurs are we brought out into the open. Breaking down the hardness of oak and sycamore takes great pressure. Similarly, breaking down emotional defenses takes great stress, trial, and woe. For some it may be the loss of a job or economic difficulty. For others cancer rears its ugly head. Some may face anxiety and panic attacks. Others find an ice storm when their children chase deadly things like drugs and alcohol. All of these things begin to break us down and open us up to the fact that inside we have a heart that needs relationship – with God and with others.
The good news is that it doesn’t take ice storms to break us down. Jesus told us that he has an easy yoke and a light burden if only we will give him our heavy hearts. The choice is easy. Give up your heart and He will give you a new one, one that will remain unaffected by the ice storms of life – one that has been crucified and resurrected to eternal life through His blood and sacrifice.