All The Trees Will Clap Their Hands

In the past few weeks we have seen the launch of a new program from one of our partners that seeks to engage children with nature. This effort is well organized and very deeply grounded in all kinds of research that shows a myriad of positive outcomes for youth when they spend time outside in everything from their mental health to their grades. 

Something I have appreciated about the organizers is that they have been committed to making their ideas applicable to our neighborhood context. Their prescription is not, "Get a State Parks permit, drive out of town, and spend the whole day at the springs" because while that is certainly a great way to experience nature, it's not always available or something our neighborhood might respond to. But instead, the approach has been to encourage students to realize that nature is everywhere. They can listen for birds in the neighborhood. They can watch the magnolia trees bloom and learn about the different functions of the flowers, seed pods, and more. Even just closing your eyes and being aware of which direction the hum of a cicada is coming from has a grounding effect.

I've been amazed to see how being involved even impacts my view of the world. A couple weeks ago we had one of our "Church in the Garden" events and we should have had a film crew for the nature project there because the garden bed we were working on with another family was basically an informercial. There were worms, centipedes, and flowers. We were identifying plants and how to tell the weeds from the crops. At one point our daughter yelled out in joy, "I just want to watch butterflies!"

All of this leads me to be more responsive to the fact that God is in the midst of all of this. 

I can sometimes be prone to the idea that humans are "brains on sticks". I love discussing ideas and can get lost in the implications of philosophy and theology. Even though that might be my proclivity and the bent of much of the American church, the Scriptures make it very clear that we are embodied and in a living environment. And that these facts matter very much.

For many years, I've had a fondness for Isaiah 55. In college I would sometimes wander into the Catholic church next to the library during breaks because even though it wasn't my church, I knew they kept it unlocked and sometimes I would pull a random Bible off a shelf and table and read that passage. Then, I usually would leave it open to the page hoping the next person to come through might "randomly" get to read the same words that mean so much to me.

The poem has an incredible amount of memorable content. Almost any verse could be plucked out and printed on a magnet or coffee mug and be marketed. And most likely you have seen it done. But, today while reading I found myself gravitating to the last few lines: 

"You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and the hills will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field with clap their hands.

Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree,

and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.

This will be for the LORD's renown,

for an everlasting sign,

which will not be destroyed."

Repetition helps me dive deeper still and I love how The Message renders the passage:

"So you'll go out in joy,

you'll be led into a whole and complete life.

The mountains and the hills will lead the parade,

bursting with song.

All the trees of the forest will join the procession,

exuberant with applause.

No more thistles, but giant sequoias,

no more thornbushes, but stately pines--

Monuments to me, to God,

living and lasting evidence of God."

What a promise. What an image.

It is an understatement to say that nature testifies to God's greatness. The ocean. A mountain. A sunset. The glorious capybara all point to this. But, even more is going on here. This is not just the passive existence of beauty and splendor that point to a Creator, this is nature joining in exuberant praise in response to some future, promised happening. 

As with most of the prophetic writings these verses tie into the idea of exile. The joyful event--so joyful it makes trees applaud with their non-existent hands--is the return of God's people from their exile to Babylon. 

We, too, are a people of exile. We live in a world that is broken. Where things are not as they ought to be. It is in the great and the small. It is in our systems and institutions and it is inside our own hearts. Like these ancient exiles, we hold to a promise that one day there will be an overflow of joy. One day the exile will end and the broken things will be put back right. And when that happens, it will all be too much to contain within mere prose. The healing of all things is like mountains in the midst of song and dance. It is like trees on parade. It is seeing the thorns transformed from threat to pure beauty. 

When we look around--be it that redwood in a protected land or a live oak in Brentwood, the trees, nature itself can be a reminder of the promise that one day joy, love, peace, wholeness, and justice will reign. One day the exile will break and we will join in with shouts of praise.