Oct 16 2008
Jesus in My Backyard
As far back as I can remember, Autumn has always been my favorite season. The cool crispness of the early mornings, the romantic snuggling with a loved one before a fireplace, the smell of warm apple cider with cinnamon and the transformation of the woodlands from a sea of leafy green into an explosion of reds, golds and browns that make up the forest’s patchwork coat of many colors; these are the treasures of the season.
Having grown up in the Midwest, I took these things for granted. I have lived in many different parts of the country and while they all have a unique attraction to them, I find that I long for the more seasonal existence. The pine forests of the Northwest stand in majesty regardless of the season and the tropical climate of Southern California can become monotonous. I suppose that we all long for the memories of our younger days and regardless of where those memories formed, they are special to us. I can’t help but think that there is an essential element missing from childhood without the Rockwell…ian experience of diving into a huge pile of leaves on an October afternoon.
As much as I remember these things with fondness, nothing can compare to the visual impact of a hardwood forest, blanketing the rolling hillside, adorned in it’s Autumn color. People will cross the continent to spend a few days in the ripe color of New England when the Appalachians are at their peak of brilliance. This is a spectacle that has the power to draw people from miles away so that they can catch a glimpse of the landscape, painted by the fingertip of God when dipped in the palette of the approaching Winter.
2000 miles is a short distance to travel when, in the balance hangs the swansong of the death of the leaves. Yes, it is in the dying chorus of oak, ash, maple, cottonwood and the combined foliage of a whole host of others that the forest becomes alive with color. There is an excitement at the Springtime budding of new growth; an, “ah,” of contentment when the fruits are in blossom; the grandeur of the thick green cloak that extends from Spring, through the long Summer months; but what can compare to the dazzling display that the forest offers in the dying of the leaves?
Looking out across the rolling hills of Northern Missouri over a hot cup of coffee, it occurs to me that this is God’s way. The trees provide food, shelter and protection for a multitude of creatures. Among the trees you find strength with flexibility and relief from the hot midday sun beneath the branches of a mother oak. The trees take the bodily wastes that we exhale as carbon dioxide and assimilate this toxin converting the chemicals into what we need to live, oxygen. The trees, during their productive season, give us enough of the elements that we require to sustain us through the cold, grey winter. And after all their work they drop their leaves and, “die,” until the resurrection of the Spring. The leaves, taken for granted all year long, in their final moments burst into color as if to say, “It is finished.”
Is this not the picture of Christ? Doesn’t He take from us, our very worst, our sin, and in return give us the promise of all we need, life everlasting? Christ gives us our food, provides our shelter and refreshes us when we faint from the heat of the day. In Christ we find supernatural strength and miraculous abilities, while at the same time, childlike tenderness. Jesus drove the moneychangers from the temple in Holy outrage with the very wrath of God, and yet came alongside His friends at the tomb of Lazarus and wept with them.
There is an excitement around Christmas as many celebrate the day designated as Jesus’ birthday. The life of Christ is represented today, by many, as little more than attending weekly worship and attempting to live a moral life while overlooking many of the day-to-day activities of this modern world. Without question, Christ’s life, teachings and testimony have benefited humanity beyond our ability to measure. The baby Jesus was beautiful, as are all babies; there was certainly beauty in the works that Jesus preformed among us, but the real beauty, the most magnificent beauty, of our Lord came at His death. The most significant action ever accomplished in the history of the world was finished on the cross at Calvary when Jesus said, “It is finished,” and gave up the ghost.
Please do not misunderstand me, I am not trying to discount the resurrection or the ascension, these are the further convincing proofs of who Jesus is and what He accomplished for us. The reason that I hold the death of Christ above even these is this; Jesus did not resurrect for our sins, He did not ascend for our transgressions. The most beautiful thing that Christ could ever do for us was to take away our sins, and this was done when He died for us. The most magnificent display of the beauty of Jesus Christ came by His death.
The glory of God is displayed throughout all of creation. You can find the magic of life all around us and there are countless examples of the complexity of God’s simplicity. Now, where I once saw only the wonder of the fall colors as I looked out across the hills, I can not help but see the beauty of Jesus Christ on every one of them. The beauty of the colors of Autumn echo back to me the perfect beauty of He, who did for us the thing that we could never do for ourselves; who took our sins away; who took captivity captive. This He did, not for humanity at large, though the blessing is available to all who would reach out and take hold of it; no, this was done on a personal level for each one of us. We must not think of Jesus Christ as, “the,” Saviour, but rather as, “my,” Saviour.
Jesus died for you, and for me, not simply for, “us.” The death that provided the bridge to span the chasm of separation caused by sin, between each of us and God the Father, was endured in absolute obedience by the living Son of God. This was to complete the desire of God, who by His great good pleasure, willed that we should, though desperately wicked and filthy sinners, be reconciled to Him.
I believe that Joyce Kilmer may have been right when she wrote,
“I think that I shall never see,
A poem as lovely as a tree,”
…let me add…
But one thing yet is lovelier still,
The Son of God on Calvary’s hill.
All for the Glory of Christ