I love trees.

My girls think I’m weird.

I’ll frequently stop when we’re out and stand and look and admire a tree.

“That’s not normal, dad!”

I love trees without leaves. Seeing their skeleton. The branches twisting and arching. How they seem to weave in and out of each other…stretching and straining…dancing almost.

I love big trees. You know, thick trunks that 5 people can’t even stretch their arms around…massive branches…heavy…towering…strong…powerful.

I love a solitary tree in a field - imagining it watching over the farmer as he ploughs. Standing guard over the harvest.

I love the willow by the river - casting its shade over picnicking families.

I love the yew in the churchyard. 800, 900, 1000 years old. Witness to hundreds, thousands of people over the years who each week have gathered to worship.

I love trees with full canopy. Sunlight filtering through creating every shade of green imaginable. I love how the potential that gives life to the leaves is contained within. And how each year, without fail, keeping to their assigned rhythm, the leaves appear. Just appear.

I love imagining the roots. Some go deep. Some go wide. Complicated, interlocking systems of woody anchors. Pressing into the ground. Like tentacles, clinging to the earth… tying the tree into the ground.

I love knowing how many trees have just been there for years. And years. In the same spot. Maybe the surrounding scenery has changed, but the tree…it’s just been there. A constant, reassuring presence.

And I love, love, love, walking through a forest of conifers – sucking air in deeply, smelling the gorgeous scents of pine. I love the straight rows. The darkness. The quiet. The fallen needles. Their height.

I love looking at trees that once were but are no longer. Fallen. Imagining how they once looked. Recalling their beauty…their splendour.

Call me weird, but I love trees.

And that’s why, I think, the words of the Psalmist…and of Jeremiah, and of Isaiah, resonate so much with me.

The Psalmist declares how the one who delights in the Word of God is “like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.” (Psalm 1:3)

Jeremiah writes that the one whose trust is in the Lord, “will be a like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit”. (Jeremiah 17:8)         

And Isaiah describes the redemptive and healing work of God’s promised Messiah in terms of establishing “oaks of righteousness”…trees of “splendour”. (61:3)   

I read those verses and I want them for myself.

I want to be that tree. Planted by streams of water.

Established and solid.

Flourishing.

Full of life.

Rooted…bedded in.

Strong. Firm. Secure.

And I know in Jesus this is mine…this is what’s on offer for all who trust in Christ.

In Christ, we are established.

In Christ, we have a secure foundation. An anchor.

But we have more than just an anchor.

For in Christ we have access to our ongoing life. All we need to flourish and grow. To be built up…to bear fruit.

In Christ, we have an invitation to press in and grow…to receive…to drink deeply…to draw what nourishment we need.

So, in my slightly weird tree-gazing, I pray oaks of righteousness for myself. I pray oaks of righteousness for you. I pray we would be a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendour.