Oak Songs

The oak trees call out; they sing in the wind. They know my name and talk to me.

As you might expect, they first tell me of the glory of the Lord. Then they tell me of pain and strength. The blackjack oaks around in particular are very tough trees. Cut off a limb and try to toss it away; some part of it will grab your clothing or even your glove. You won’t easily throw it from you. They are stubby little things, and their growth pattern is a little chaotic, shooting out in all directions, bending and twisting in some of the most amazing shapes. They are tenacious in every way, the last deciduous trees around here to completely lose their leaves in winter.

And when some part of the tree dies for whatever reason, it continues to hang on until it actually rots. That takes a very long time. The wood is extremely tough.

I was out walking around our community. As usual, the oaks greeted me with enthusiasm. It was a warm and blustery day, so their songs were loud and strong. I reached out to touch one, gently pulling at a dead limb still firmly connected. A fragment dropped off. Something about it caught my eye.

It doesn’t show well in the photo, but that stick is so smooth in some places that it reflects light. Who can say how long it hung there rubbing against the other limbs? I picked it up and carried it home. Handing to my wife, she began to weep. However much the trees talk to me, it’s entirely different for her. She felt the pain.

But we both do in another sense. I knew God had called me to serve Him in the gospel ministry back when I was 16 — 52 years ago. While the folks in churches along the way tried to help, I doubt anyone took me seriously. I was always too different, unwilling to swallow everything they tried to hand me. I don’t fault them for being faithful to what they sensed was their own calling. I don’t fault them for some imaginary failure to hear from God. I can’t know if they did or didn’t. I fault them for handling the differences so very poorly. Each of them imagined that they had a commission from God to stop me if I didn’t toe the line.

Because I wasn’t just like them and buying into their whole system, they were not only refusing to help, but determined to make sure I failed. So I did. Once or twice an individual church took seriously my claim to be a fit gospel minister, but decided after meeting me that I was too weird. It never occurred to them that their human traditions were not a gift from God. But it was the ministry leaders who actively worked to hinder my search that did the real damage.

That was simply evil. It hurt and it was needless injury. In the calculus of God’s moral dealings with us on this earth, I feel certain it cost them dearly, though I can only guess the specifics in just a few cases. I’m not mocking, because the main point is that they could have had a part on my joy. Instead, they were left on the tree to rot and blow away. God found me all polished and hardened and took me along.

Prophetically I will tell you that a great many existing religious institutions today will collapse very soon. They may not go away, but things will change dramatically and the weakness of their design will show through. They will have a very tough time as we drift forward into this time of tribulation. I’m not celebrating that, but I suppose I might be happy when a few disillusioned former church folks discover what we have known for a long time — tying your religion too closely to the ambient social culture means you can’t stay alive when that culture shifts.

All the more so when your religion succeeds only by its cultural familiarity to folks. I’m not angry and I certainly have no intention of interfering with anyone’s sense of calling and ministry. But I do feel very sad. These people are in for a very big shock, and not a few will walk away from the Christ they know. It saddens me deeply that they insist on perpetuating a false image of God and His revelation because they simply cannot imagine that they could be wrong. It simply works too well, so how could it be wrong?

It’s getting windy, with storms like no one alive has seen. Tribulation has just begun. Maybe some of them will be okay. If the structure and design of your church matches what God says in His Word, only the return of Christ will shut it down. Otherwise, it will collapse with the social customs on which it stands. Yeah, maybe I’m deluded. Maybe my brand of religion is just for freaks and flakes. So who is your brand of religion for? I suspect there will be a lot of freaks and flakes around regardless of the tectonic changes in our world. I am hardly the only follower of Christ who felt alienated from the mainstream.

But instead of being rubbed raw by the friction, I was hardened and polished until I began to reflect His Son. Or so I’m told by the trees here.

The sweetest revenge is losing your appetite for vengeance. I still have a burden of care and shepherding even for those who abused me in my ministerial training. How can we not take our cue from Jesus? He felt deep compassion for the bewildered sheep of Israel. Though precious few accepted the whole message, He still healed and feed a great many until they lost interest.

Pray that you’ll understand. Not so much for a premonition of the rising tribulation, but so that you will have a heart and mind prepared for the elements of that wave of wrath that are pertinent to your Kingdom service. I knew decades ago that I was an arrow in the quiver, awaiting the day of battle. I knew that my final mission for God would stand on the ashes of destruction we have not yet seen. That I sense the mission is so very close also tells me that destruction is near. Don’t get lost in calculating your own losses, but prepare your heart to act in the midst of human bewilderment.

A great many church folk have no idea what’s coming, or of how completely the mainstream churches will fail in that day of trial. If we are ready, many will come to us. A great many will pass on, but a precious few will stay until they share this mighty gift of divine justice. In every crowd, there’s always at least one Judas. There’s also a Peter, and somewhere a Paul.

The oaks sing most lovely when the storms are strongest.