The Old Oak Tree Inspires Hope

Psalm 92:14 (NLT) “Even in old age they will still produce fruit; they will remain vital and green.”

I have been living alongside this huge oak tree now since 1983. I have prayed over it, not wanting to lose it. I have lost parts of it through storms over the years. Even this year I see many dead branches seeming to mar its glory while providing me a HUGE symbol of hope. Only God knows how many decades this tree has lived. But, year after year it keeps sending out new green leaves and growing new fruit of acorns despite the dead branches. In defiance of the aging process, it keeps on growing. The old oak tree keeps on delighting me year after year as the fresh tiny new oak leaves emerge from the bud and start to grow – it happens slowly enough to notice and yet the tree is seemingly transformed overnight. Year after year it becomes the home where mother raccoon raises her brood of kittens in its hollow cavity – we get a glimpse of momma on a hot, humid day when she chooses to rest on the limb instead of hiding in the hollow. Later in summer, if we are watching, we get to see how many little ones she sends off at dusk.

The old oak tree gives me hope that I can remain vital and continue to grow. As God continues to transform the old oak tree each year into a fresh “new” older version, so He will continue to transform me into this new creation through Christ. Despite the evidences of aging trying to mar God’s glorious creation, there is still much that is vital and “green” about the older me. I want to keep on growing and learning throughout the years God will give me. I want to be a person that provides a sense of stability and comfort as I continue to find my strength for the day’s tasks by resting and trusting in the promises of God.

As the years march on, I keep realizing more and more “dead branches” of my own. My body keeps on breaking down causing me much discomfort. The wrinkles and age spots mar the once beautiful younger me. So many medications give me undesirable side effects leaving me angry at the losses I’m realizing. How can I use the energy of this anger I feel to spur me on to cooperate with God’s transformation of the “new” older me? Perhaps I found my inspiration as the psalmist reminded me to consider the yearly spring season with my old oak tree.

For Further Reflection:

What symbols inspire hope in you?

What “dead branches” of loss give you pain and discomfort?

In what ways are you providing shelter or comfort to a younger person?