There is an epic story that
floats around my extended family which involves me, my mother and my teenage
stupidity. My mother had a miniature,
antique rocking chair and if memory serves me correctly was a gift from an
elder family member. This was a
cherished item to my mom, beautifully carved and stained, made from the finest
hardwoods. So I decided to sit in
it. Crack! The main support for the back of the little
chair snapped and everyone grew quite. Within
minutes mom was in the living room surveying the damage. My life flashed before my eyes. My stupidity only grew when I promised, “I
can fix it!” Using screws, glue and
other ways I repaired it only for it to break again and again. This antique, beautiful, miniature rocking
chair would never be the same.
This story flooded my mind when I
was hiking with my son in Devil’s Den the other day. Noticing trees young and old around me, the
word “broken” kept coming to my mind.
Whether a rocking chair, glass, clay pot or car, many things broken are
never the same. A car can be wrecked,
completely repaired and look brand new, but once the repair is mentioned to
perspective buyers, doubt begins to form and a sell is difficult. The rocking chair never was the same and most
things that break are never fully fixed.
In fact, one could say that which is made of dead things once broken are
never the same again.
Living things are different. Noticing trees in the forest while hiking, a
tree limb can break, but the tree will continue growing. The apex or terminal buds closest to the
break will start a new shoot like nothing ever happened. As you man know, regeneration of trees
actually occurs at the base of the tree.
A broken limb is still connected to the trunk which is connected to the
shoot apical meristem, which is connected to the roots. A broken tree limb will fix itself because it
is connected to that which gives life.
Once the limb breaks and dries
outs, or is intentionally cut to form into wood selected for furniture, it
loses its regeneration power. The longer
it is dried out, the harder it becomes increasing in strength and its chance to
break. Dried out wood used for
construction is impossible to completely fix once broken and one must scrap the
piece and start over.
I share this as I think about two
trees. The first is a tree once living
in a garden gave everlasting life (Gen. 2.9) and the second tree gave the knowledge
of good and evil. Then the choice was
presented. Eat the former tree and regeneration
will continue: eat the later and one will be removed from regeneration—one will
become breakable. As the story goes, the
second tree was chosen and man has been breakable ever since.
But a third tree was formed. This was grown and chopped down, dried out
and used for construction. When the
order came, it was sawn into pieces, fixed together and made into a cross. Jesus came to fix mankind, was nailed to this
breakable creation and left to die. This
Man that came to give life was placed on the very thing that illustrates
brokenness. Everything about His death
communicated brokenness in order for mankind to be grafted into life again. And grafting cannot take place unless the
limb is severed off and the source of life is cut open to accept the new
limb. Grafting is very violent, but life
is restored to the new limb. This new
life, this rebirth (John 3:5) has cost everything for us to become whole, but
if we choose to be grafted—if we choose to abide in Him—He will abide in us.