Acorns

“An oak tree is an acorn that has not given up.”

Punchy. But maybe in need a little tweaking.

An oak is an acorn that has been watered. Father, through Christ by the Spirit rain down grace, abundance, provisions, encouragement, power, Spirit. All we need for life and godliness.

An oak is an acorn that has been given sun. Father, united to you by Christ’s work and the Spirit, you are source, identity, breath, life, truth, reality, kingdom, reigning.

An oak is an acorn that has been rooted. Father who Christ revealed and the Spirit testifies to in our spirits, you are truth, anchor, rock, unchanging, Alpha and Omega.

An oak is an acorn who has chosen to live in light of this truth, to remain steadfast in light of all that God has done, who he is, and his truth. An oak is an acorn that has weathered storms, choosing to remain loyal like the seed planted in the field and bears fruit (Luke 8). Has chosen to keep eyes fixed on Jesus. Has chosen to walk by the Spirit, let herself be filled by the Spirit (the best English rendition of the passive imperative “be filled”).

Easy?

No.

The rocks and clay and hard soil press down on the seed trying to break forth above to light. Pressure of burden of darkness and soil. Radical in the seed wants to retreat. Shell. Lord, I can’t. The burdens are too heavy. Lord, you can. You call forth life. You create energy. You exchange your strength for ours, you who do not grow tired or weary (Isa. 40:29-31).

The storms beat and the young sapling wants to bow to the ground. Weary. Pain. Lord, I can’t get up. I can’t do another day. I can’t do another hour. Lord, you are Storm-Stiller, you walk on the water in the storm to me. The little sapling raises head to the Storm Cloud Rider.

Drought comes and the heat of the sun shrivels leaves. The little tree wants to shrink back, protect self, cease from reaching out to and just conserve. Tired. Heat. But Lord, you are the shield, the shade by night, protector, defender, refuge.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Cor. 15:58).

Jesus—my Savior, on another tree he hung. “If you are the Son of God, come down and save yourself!” He could have. He could have called down legions of angels who were probably on the edge of their seats in heaven, “Almighty God, what is going on? How can you allow this to happen? My dear Lord, intervene! He’s your Son! He’s our King! We have bowed to him—why must he bow his head to death?” They would have rushed to his bidding as they had always done since the beginning of their creation before the world began.

Jesus—my Savior, he stayed. He was steadfast, immovable in this great work of the Lord knowing that his pain in the Lord was not in vain.

Because of Jesus.

My labor in the Lord is not in vain.

Your steadfastness and labor is not in vain. Your forgiveness when it seems impossible, your serving your children with love day in and day out with no appreciation, your tithes when it hurts, your choosing to trust when storms come, is not in vain.

Jesus brought us into an eternal world where labor is not in vain. Into a covenantal relationship with Faithful God where labor is not in vain. Into union with an eternal unchanging God. Our labor is not in vain. Our little acorn seeds pressing on is not in vain.

Nor do we labor alone. Watered. Sun-poured. Rooted. He is all for us. We WILL be “oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified” (Isaiah 61:3).