Wilted Christmas Trees

One of our family traditions is to make hot-chocolate the day after Thanksgiving and pile into our mini-van to hunt for the perfect Christmas tree. We figure that if we get there first, then we can get the best tree...one that is fresh and one that will make all of our neighbors oooh and aaaah!

This year was no exception. We stopped by a couple of the fancy tree places which dot the desolate parking lots of our suburban landscape only to find out that their trees were beautiful but way too expensive. With that knowledge firmly in place, we dropped by Lowe's to find a parking lot full of wonderful and fairly inexpensive 7-8' Frasier Firs. We were prepared with our pocket knives (knowing that many of the best trees would still be wound up in twine) and we dove right into the seemingly unending piles of fresh smelling, deep green Christmas trees. After about 45 minutes of comparing and discarding we finally agreed on a massive seven foot tree that was the heaviest tree of its size. It was so thick that you could not possibly see through the tree, and the sap was so abundant that my hands turned brown and sticky before I even got the monster to the register. Surely this tree would last for the season...with freshness to spare.

Within about two weeks, our tree began to change. The crisp limbs with their lush needles began to sag and the needles began to rain down on our carpet and presents like the lake effect snow in Buffalo, New York. Our "freshly" cut tree abruptly stopped drinking water, and our family silently watched as our glorious masterpiece began to look more like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree than the one that we so carefully chose on that cool November evening at Lowe's.

As I watched this whole process unfold, I couldn't stop thinking how much my life mirrors the fate of my Christmas tree. I will turn 40 this year. My knees hurt when I run, and I need glasses to read these words. My body hurts when I wake up in the morning. It takes two cups of coffee before I can even keep my eyes fully open, and I lose my breath when I go up a flight of steps.

But more than that, I often find myself wilting from a far greater weariness than my physical pains. I find myself wilting from the struggles and strains of living in a fallen and broken world. A world where good people sometimes finish last and the real jerks seem to glide through life without a care in the world. Maybe for some of us, life has thrown some real curve balls. The disappointments of life can be hidden killers, pushing us to be cold and hard. Not only do we deal with the pain and loss from external agents, we also have to deal with our own hidden demons. I often find myself grappling with my own selfishness, anger, and fears. These come from within, and they are more crippling than anything that is external. Sometimes I boldly fight the temptations of my flesh, but many times I submit to the enemy within, either too weary to fight or too lazy to care. I am wilting both because I have cut off from the vine and because I often don't want to be reconnected!

As I have been contemplating this whole thing, I began to notice something about our tree. You see, when the tree was strong and lush and green, the ornaments and the lights were pushed back and muted, but as the tree began to loose some of its luster, the ornaments and especially the lights began to become more prominent. As a matter of fact, as I moved a step or two back from the tree, I did not see the wilted branches anymore. I could only see the glimmering white lights shinning boldly and the strategically placed ornaments seemed to dance on the end of the branches.

Wow, what a picture of the life of a believer in Christ. We start out on this journey of Christianity with boldness and confidence. As the battle scars begin to add up we begin to realize more and more of how far short we fall compared to our perfect savior. We realize that our sinful passions, although redeemed and forgiven, will not be easily broken. And as we struggle with our sin and wilt under the strain of this world, we begin to realize that the light of Christ and the ornaments of his gifts to us can now be more boldly seen. Life is no longer wrapped up in "me" but "Christ in me." My life becomes defined by Christ and the gospel of grace, and the light of Christ shines boldly through my struggles and pain...not because I have it all together...I certainly do not, but because I am forgiven and I have been adopted by the King. I am filled with His Spirit, and His Spirit testifies that there is more to life than this world. As I become weak, He becomes strong in me. In my life struggles, His light emerges...strong and bold and never ceasing.

I am not sure I have this whole "wilting" thing figured out yet, but maybe just maybe the wilting will lead to something better, more profound, and a whole lot more satisfying...maybe even something eternal.