Nurse Logs

I took a long walk in the woods today.

I followed a trail that petered out onto an abandoned logging road on the flanks of Mt. St. Helens.

My path took me along a small river.

It was a gray day,

no rain...

cold enough to make your eyes water,

but not enough to make you stay inside.

The wind blew too and the gusts animated the towering Douglas Firs giving them a voice that you can’t hear on quieter days.

I walked and listened.

Lately its been my goal to spend an extended period of time each week listening to the Spirit. It seems like I fail more than I succeed at this, but today I succeeded.

I walked and listened some more, and as I did, I began to hear something.

But the sound was “heard” more with my eyes than my ears.

These trees are majestic and powerful. In some places, they tower over everything in sight.

They’re strong, beautiful and in their own way, give life to their environment;

birds nest,

elk rest

and salmon swim through their shadows.

But what caught my eye today was a fallen tree;

a dead tree lying perpendicular to the rest of the forest.

It wasn’t the deadness that struck me.

It was the life that grew up out of it.

Growing straight up from the trunk of that old tree was all kinds of

new vegetation;

ferns,

moss, and Vine Maple branches,

stretched towards the opening in the forest canopy created by the falling of the old tree.

Life out of death.

Creativity out of decay.

Diversity out of uniformity.

In this image, I “heard” with my eyes (with my heart too) the Spirit telling me what kind of ministry He has called me to.

My friend Eric told me these are called “nurse logs.” What a wonderful name! What eloquent evidence of God’s wisdom, that even in the decline and decay of one tree, there is nourishment and care for others; that at the end of its life, this tree would nurse hundreds of other organisms to life.

The void created by the loss of one tree is filled by the life it gives to others.

For too long I’ve talked and preached about a new kind of church that either directly or by insinuation suggested that the conventional church, (if not dead) is irrelevant and meaningless. I’ve insinuated that one particular form is in decay and should therefore be disregarded. I’ve been less than kind to the “old tree” that may or may not be dying.

Who am I to say?

I’ve offended and frustrated those closest to me with careless ranting about what’s wrong with the church, but on that trail today the Spirit showed me what’s right with it.

He showed me how the life of something new is connected with something old. “What you discard as useless,” the Spirit said “is not only useful, it is essential.”

Today I heard that the growth of something new is built on and nourished by much of what is old. It’s a simple biological reality and a spiritual one too.

If, in my arrogance I ignore this truth, I do so to my own peril;I risk thwarting the very purposes of God in my life.

So now that I’ve “heard” the Spirit on this matter, I’m learning to see things differently.

Whether or not conventional church is dead is not for me to judge. It is however, the source of much of what is good in me. So much about who I am has been “nursed” by the places God has put me over the years. For that I should be grateful. I admit I’m learning how to be so, but I’m not yet there. But I am starting to see that the courage to risk something new finds its source in a culture that built in me a solid sense of identity and value.

It was in the conventional church that I was taught week in and week out how much I was loved.

It was there that I was shown compassion and love, and forgiveness, and grace, and vision.

I’ve been nursed along on my spiritual journey by the churches (however flawed) of which I’ve been a part.

It is because of where I come from that I am able to forge a path (however faint) into a new wilderness; to sacrifice my gifts and passions for the sake of the Kingdom.

Life out of death.

Creativity out of decay.

Diversity out of uniformity.

Nursed…and alive.