Today, I planted an olive tree. I planted it in the church yard. Our
church has a lovely garden that, like much of the island of Grand Bahama, was
decimated by Hurricane Matthew that came roaring through the Bahamas on October
6, 2016.
There were many and varied responses to the devastation of the
hurricane, both by our church and by people in the United States and elsewhere.
People gave money. People brought food and water to communities that were
devastated by the storm. People brought tarps and blankets for those who had
the most severe damage. And people are still helping with roof repair and
building supplies and temporary housing where necessary.
Many of these things were done by our own church. Our Crossreach ministry
has been in place for years and so we had the infrastructure to help facilitate
the distribution of many of the donations that were made. We are still doing
that. I am proud to be part of a church that takes so seriously the biblical
call to help the poor and needy.
But I planted an olive tree. It seems an odd response to all that has
happened. Why in the world would I do such a thing? I did it for several
reasons. Our church has a lovely garden, as I have said, and I did it partially
to help restore its beauty. Many trees and shrubs were stripped bare, and
others were literally ripped out of the ground by the 150 mph wind. It was sad
for me to see the grounds in that condition. I like to walk in the garden and look at the
plants. I like to think about the One who made them, and me, and what God’s
plan might be for the future. So, I planted an olive tree.
There is a Messianic passage in Isaiah 11 that we often read during
Advent. “A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch
will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest upon him…” As this tree grows
and (hopefully) bears fruit, it will remind me of this passage.
Isaiah wrote hundreds of years before Jesus was born. Prophets are
notorious for their long game. They are concerned about what God is doing now,
but they also have an eye to what God will do in years to come, sometimes many
years to come. Olive trees are extremely long-lived. Many are documented to
have lived for hundreds of years. Perhaps this one will as well, and it will
remind me that God has a long term plan in place, not just a short one.
Several years ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Israel and one of
our stops was the Garden of Gethsemane. It was quite moving to think that in
this very place, Jesus poured out his heart to his Father and said, “Not my
will be done, but Thine.” Maybe in years to come, I can sit under that tree and
pray the same prayer. I think that most Christians don’t say it nearly enough.
The tree also reminds me that, much like the olive garden where Jesus
prayed, we often have to go through difficult and trying times to get to God’s
blessing and salvation on the other side. Jesus saw the big picture, and he
knew what lay on the other side of the pain and suffering he was about to
experience. Unfortunately, we cannot see what lies beyond our pain. We don’t
know what it all means or what purpose it may serve. But, perhaps this tree
will serve to remind me that there is suffering that leads to salvation and
resurrection. It is still suffering, but is, or at least can be, redemptive.
Perhaps that will help me to endure, and even, as Paul is somehow able to do,
rejoice in suffering.
It is ironic that on two occasions when I have preached on theodicy, (the
question of why we suffer when we believe in a good and powerful God) there has
been unprecedented disaster. The first time this happened, I was preaching
through The Lord’s Prayer, and when I reached the phrase, “Thy will be done,”
it was the second week of September, 2001. The Tuesday before I was to preach
that sermon, the towers in New York City came crashing to the ground, and with
them many people’s faith and confidence in God
Strangely, as I was to preach on the “Difficult Question” of Why Good
People Suffer, the island where I live was devastated by the worst hurricane to
hit this island in recorded history. Maybe I shouldn’t preach on that anymore!
Or, maybe God is trying to remind me, and the congregations I serve,
that there is mercy and there is hope, even when the darkness is all around.
There is purpose and there is redemption in suffering. We may not see it, but
God can use it to build up His kingdom.
That’s why I planted an olive tree today.