Part of our ministry this month is to do work on our host’s property, preparing the land for future crops. For the last two days I’ve been helping to remove tree stumps from the ground. I’ve done a lot of digging, a lot of chopping. I’ve done a decent amount of grunting and even some yelling. (Tree stumps can be very stubborn.) And though I’ve never been much of an image learner, God has been using this manual labor to help me put some of the Race into words.
My time on the Race, as told by a tree stump:
1. Like a tree stump, I have had times of stubbornness and compliance throughout this journey.
Some of the stumps we’ve taken out have come out with little more than a solid whack from the ax. There’ve been times when I’ve been so ready to learn, so prepared for growth that God’s lessons in those moments have washed over me and created immediate change. And, there’ve been times (perhaps more frequently) when I’ve been hacked at constantly, stubbornly refusing to yield until, completely exhausted, I lay before the Lord and allow Him to do His work. Those moments have been some of the sweetest.
2. The deeper the roots, the stronger the stump
Okay, so this goes for trees, flowers, really all things plant-like. But the hardest stumps to remove have been the ones with the thickest, deepest roots. And I’ve seen over the Race how important it is to be really rooted; to know who I am in Christ and to live out of that knowledge. Even when trials come, even when someone tries to cut me down, those deep roots hold firm. Sometimes those roots remain even when the bulk of the stump is removed. On days when there’s nothing going right, when I feel like I’ve got nothing left, God still IS.
3. In the end, a stump is just a stump
I admit, this isn’t a perfect analogy. Because these stumps are no longer alive. Their life source has been cut off. And sometimes I’ve met people in the same position. Their source of Life is missing. Sometimes they don’t even know it yet, like a newly cut tree whose stump is still green. But eventually the stump dies. It’s roots begin to wither. It can be removed with little effort.
If I had to put to words one sentence, one lesson I’ve learned above the rest, it’d be this: my life without Christ would be meaningless.
It seems this final month of the Race is inevitably a time for reflection. My teammates and I have been sharing more stories, more memories. I’ve been reading over my journal for the last year and marveling at all the work God has done. I still have no clue how I’ll begin to share this experience with people back home. So much has happened.
There’s so much more to say, so many more stories to tell and lessons to share. And I know those of you at home have learned and grown as well. In time, I trust God will give us both the words to say.
Or, better yet, we will sit across from one another at a table, cups of coffee in front of us, and share a look that says “Yes, I know. Me too.”
