If I Really Believed...

Rich Mullins wrote: Sometimes my life just don’t make sense at all. When the mountains seem so big and my faith just seems so small. So hold me, Jesus. Cause I’m shaking like a leaf. You have been King of my glory. Won’t you be my Prince of peace?

When I hear that song, I think of a shimmering stand of aspen, their trunks shivering naked in the early snow.

If I were a tree, that’s the one I’d want to be.  They come up first after a fire.  Then, they leaf out quickly, giving shelter for the evergreens that will, in years to come, show their gratitude by starving them out. 

In the spring, the aspens’ pale green leaves are always in motion, whispering songs on the wind. And in autumn the mountains are jeweled with their golden stands, glowing like a refiners’ fire. 

Isn’t that the way it is?  Some give while others take. Aspen are born to give beauty, to give rest.  They even give in winter: in the face of certain death.

The Bible says, 'To live is Christ and to die is gain.'

That's like, the church's motto, right? But if I really believed that to depart and be with Christ would be far better than remaining here in this tent of skin, wouldn't that change the way I live my life? Wouldn't I love others more?  Even unlovable others? Wouldn't I be more willing to empty myself into a world that seems set on choking the life from me? 

I was in Valle Vidal one winter years ago and I remember looking up on the side of the mountain and seeing the aspen, lined up like soldiers standing resolute guard in front of the fat and greedy evergreens. Even then, even in the icy grip of winter, they were faithful. Shivering and denuded of their glory, yes. Emaciated as  survivors of a holocaust, yes. But there.

The stark contrast of their pale limbs against the rich foliage behind them, reminded me that all is not always as it seems, that this life is merely a sequence of seasons.  That this too shall pass.  That there is more, so much more to our world than what we see with our eyes and that, like Jesus said, if we don't proclaim it, the rocks themselves will cry out.  

I'm no Rich Mullins. But I know what he meant when he wrote,

'And the single hawk bursts into flight
And in the east the whole horizon is in flames
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name'...