Treetops

 August 24, 2021

The firs in front of our house are easily 100 feet tall, standing majestic In the setting sun. Living as we do at the bottom of a gorge, the sun greets the tops of the trees in early morning, and only gradually does the light creep down the trunks to the ground. The tip-tops of the firs glow yellow as the sun slips below the line of maples and ash at the edge of the embankment on the west end of our property, but it’s the treetops that have my attention tonight.

The younger and smaller trees are never graced with that golden glow. It takes time and maturity to be crowned with glory. Perhaps this is why there are so few young saints in the world. While there is no guarantee age will produce wisdom and character, it is the best shot most of us have. There is a reason old people speak of the foolishness of youth; they were there, and see things from that tip-top perspective that is only acquired with time and growth. 

It’s tempting as the years roll by to fall into a mindset of “having seen it all,” and ceasing to be surprised or challenged by life. It’s too easy to dismiss anything that disrupts our settled way of thinking, but though the bones and joints may stiffen, there is nothing that demands our brains and spirits fossilize too. I am grateful tonight for the golden treetops before me. They remind me to make good use of the years I have been given to keep reaching for the heavens and soaking up the Son of life, who each day makes all things new.