The Tree

Kawhump!

The ax sunk into the tree. I raised my arms and swung again.

Kawhump!

My body trembled with the force of exertion, but the tree had to go. Some green leaves grew, but they merely camouflaged the truth that the tree was dying.

I could relate. On the surface I appeared to be vibrant and alive. When asked how I was doing, I managed to smile and convey a positive, peaceful attitude. But inside I was dying as I struggled with anger and depression.

My family and friends agreed that I had good reason to be angry. My husband was incarcerated at the state penitentiary for molesting our 3-year-old daughter. In spite of his physical absence from our home, the shadow of oppression and abuse remained.

I stood alone, a single mom raising five children. Each morning, five pairs of eyes stared up at me, relying on me to meet their needs and mend their hurts. They were depending on me to teach them to follow God and find joy in spite of the pain and to create a new definition of family. So even though my pain was justified, I knew I had to release the anger and frustration to God if I wanted victory over the hurt.

Swing after swing

I stood before the tree and contemplated the enemy. The tree was too large to reach my arms around it. My anger was too large to hold inside.

Kawhump!

My drive and strength surprised me. As the ax bit deeper into the tree, God worked more deeply in my heart. With every swing, I poured out my thoughts to Him. One by one I worked through the list of every deed that ignited my anger, from the small things to the unspeakable things.

The magnitude of my buried emotions shocked me, but I knew that releasing my anger was only half the battle. I began to speak forgiveness for every devastating hurt. Each word of forgiveness empowered me to take another swing.

Ninety minutes and 10 blisters later, I collapsed in exhaustion. Tiny slivers and large chunks of wood were scattered around me. In the quiet of my temporary retreat, God began to answer. He showed me that if I failed to deal with my anger in a right way, I would damage the hearts of my loved ones.

The final blows

All through the day, I swung the ax until my muscles quivered. In the afternoon my brother-in-law brought a saw for me to try. He studied the tree and inserted a few wedges to encourage it to fall in a safe direction. He noted the tree’s strongest spot and suggested that I focus my attention on that area.

I was grateful for the help. I didn’t need to level the tree or fight my battles alone. God had given me brothers and sisters in Christ to help me through the hard times, to lend tools for the task, to shed light on areas that I had overlooked and to offer encouragement.

I was two-thirds through the trunk, but the tree still stood tall. Discouragement threatened to overwhelm me. Although driven to fell the tree, I could barely lift the ax. I cried out to God to knock the tree over, when my heart heard His quiet response, When it’s time. Trust Me.

My troubles are often like this tree. I try to fix them but they still remain. Eventually, in despair, I beg God to knock them down. Sometimes He does, but more often He gently replies, “When it’s time. Trust Me.”

Indeed, the tree finally toppled to the ground. A great calm filled my soul. I had poured out myself to God. He heard my cry and faithfully answered.

After the fall

The tree was down, but the blisters remained. As I tackled the daily responsibilities of raising five little children, I was able to complete my routines, but it was painful and took longer than usual. This didn’t surprise me. I expected the blisters and knew they would heal in time. If they cracked and bled, I applied salve.

I needed to treat the blisters on my heart the same way. Instead of pretending they didn’t exist or being frustrated when they slowed me down, I needed to accept them. I needed to trust God that, in time, He would heal me. If a letter, memory or careless comment reopened my wounds, I applied the salve of God’s Word. I want to ensure that I do not miss God’s grace “and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many” (Hebrews 12:15).

When God delivered His people from an enemy, they would often build a memorial to Him. I plan to plant a new tree where the formidable one once stood. Not only will it be a memorial to God who delivered my children and me from the bondage of abuse, but it will also be a reminder of victory in Christ over the bondage of harbored hurts and anger.