Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaature! [I was asked to write about a tree].

My dad and I were driving around Jacksonville at some point while I’ve been here for school, and he said to me something about how he appreciated the scenery. Jacksonville, for those that don’t know, is very woodsy. Tampa, on the other hand, is where my dad lives and it is almost entirely conquered by concrete and skyscrapers. It’s depressing. It feels skeevy to me when I’m there. It’s part of why I didn’t go to USF.

I once had to study the field of environmental psychology for a class presentation and referred back to some studies I’d learned in my Stress Management course sophomore year; cities with high crime rates have implemented what they call “green spots” consisting of trees and patches of grass to break the cement scene and have seen drastic reductions in crime. Apartment buildings in similar inner-city areas have hosted balcony beautification projects, which united the apartment residents in community and experienced less crime, theoretically as a result of the endeavor. Hospital patients with views of nature have better chances for smoother recoveries; those with pictures of nature to compensate for the lack of sparkling mountains and lakes in their windows experience similar effects. Those with neither have lower rates of recovery, and typically recovery is slower. Office workers with a view enjoy their jobs more than those without views; cubicles with pictures of nature are daytime homes to more productive employees.

In short, nature makes people happy.

God once told Paul to write some words [I believe they’re in the book of Romans, but my internet is broken as I write this and I’m not prepared to read the entire book looking for it right now] about nature, about this power trees have over us. They say something to the effect that creation exists to point to the Creator, so no man [or woman] will be left without accountability when they meet God. No one can say they didn’t know He existed, because He’s going to say “that’s most certainly not true. I set eternity in your heart. I created you to think of me. I’ve pursued and loved you desperately since before you took your first breath. And if all else failed, I made the trees.”

I was in church this morning and I was standing in the aisle with some people near the back, and the woman standing in front of me was in one of those positions so that the small boy who was trying to get through our group and to the other side couldn’t quite get around her. He certainly didn’t want to go through her. And then she shifted, which only made his situation more difficult. This is all happening in seconds, and I’m watching the whole thing. I stood there watching, and could have helped him walk in the clear path I could see from my towering view nearly five and a half feet in the air, but I chose not to. I figured he’d get it on his own and I didn’t feel like crossing any social boundaries at the time. Call it keeping to myself. In any event, in seconds the two of them figured things out [once she saw him] and she moved and smiled and he went on his merry way. None of this is of eternal consequence, but I feel like God used the moment to tell me that there will be times when I will see the way out for other people. At those times, I’ll probably need to tell them if I want to call myself a fair person. That might mean you’re an alcoholic and won’t admit to it. That might mean you’re in a significantly unhealthy relationship and cling to it for redemption. That might mean you’re simply looking for the way. It’s only fair that if I see it, I tell you. I can’t say I’m loving if I stand back and let people wallow in their own self-destruction, dying to old wounds.

For this reason, I want you to be exposed to the fact that Jesus Christ loves you. Desperately. And now you’re read it. You can’t say you didn’t know. Maybe we all go to Heaven around the same time so we stand in line. I don’t think so, but let’s say that’s the case for a second. We’re all in a line outside the gates as the book with the names of those covered in the blood of the Lamb are found. If you get to the front of the line and find with crushing dismay that your name is not in this book, you can’t pass me on the way out and say I never told you about it. You can’t blame me for an eternity of dying without death, knowing no finality or conclusion. Hell is going to suck. Forever.

Forever.

If you don’t believe me about this Jesus-rescues-everyone thing, you have to wonder why the trees reach upwards [weeping willows being an exception to my metaphor, though they are pretty and you still have to wonder how they got here in the first place]. You have to wonder why it’s trees that make the exact elemental conversion we need to trade off of for our oxygen supply. There it is, conveniently built into our environment.

Next time you see a tree, look up.