[Life Support]

“But why are trees social beings? Why do they share food with others of their own species and sometimes even go so far as to nourish their competitors? The reasons are the same as for human communities: there are advantages to working together. A tree is not a forest. On its own it is at the mercy of wind and weather… the community must remain intact no matter what. If every tree were looking out only for itself, then quite a few of them would never reach old age.” (The Hidden Life of Trees, Peter Wohlleben)

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us (Hebrews 12:1)

I sit in my parents house during morning prayer and the Lord gives me two words, [Life Support]. These two words take me back nine years to an article in a magazine that gave a synopsis to a new book, The Hidden Life of Trees. I was, at the time, not much of a reader of non-fiction, but this title caught my attention. Living on 60 acres of wood and forrest has given me a love for trees. What I discovered in that article was something that awed me and changed the way I will look at trees forever. Trees are not lone wolves. They in fact live in community and have their own ways of communicating and sharing resources. They help each other out and they warn each other of danger. God’s creation of the forrest is a prototype of His desire for humanity. Why did God call me back to this book at this time? [Life Support]. We as humans have two basic needs that must be met minute by minute. We need air (breath) and we need a mechanism to get that air to all the systems that need air (the heart). This morning as I sit in my parents home praying, my own heart feels a struggle and pressure, and my own breath catches in my throat. Every single person’s heart will have a final beat, one last effort to maintain our body’s connection to this earthly life. A beat…and then…silence. My dad is dying of heart failure. He can physically feel his heart struggle and weaken as it fails to meet the demands of this life. Today as Jesus holds my memory from The Hidden Life of Trees up against my current witness of my father’s heart, St. Paul’s words speak a deeper truth. My own heart and my mom’s heart (and each person who loves and is loved by my dad) are feeling the strain of my dad’s failing heart within our own systems. We, each in our own unique way, are trying to support him. This deep ache and sadness that fills my morning prayer is evidence of our woven interconnectedness. The witness of our faith to each other here on earth is so vital. It not only brings the truth of the Gospel to those who don’t believe, it brings life giving nourishment to each of us as we walk in faith. To remain silent and to keep our network of spiritual roots to ourselves is to be the lone tree, it is to risk never reaching the full height God intended. Dad also has a different unseen network of roots that are also reaching and weaving and pulling him closer: the great cloud of witnesses, the Communion of Saints. I imagine there is a bit of a tug of war occurring as we hold tight and the Saints pull from above. Without our faith, that final breath and final heartbeat feel like an axe cleaving our loved one from us. With the gift of our faith, and the assuredness of Jesus’ resurrection, a beautiful truth reveals itself. While Dad is taking some of our strength now, he will soon be participating in the Communion of Saints and providing each of us with spiritual life support in the great cloud of witnesses. Amen.