There are many who don't like how I love the trees.
They try to tell me I'm bending my knees to the B. And that my worship isn't minding my P's (and Q's). But that's just because they don't understand that I love the song they sing of His Glory. My worship is not of the creation but to the Creator's Majesty.
Clapping and dancing at the sight of His Sons and Daughters as they are revealed, they help remind me who I am and Whose I am. They encourage me without charging a fee. The trees just happen to get my knees buzzing like the bees. When fire comes, they burn or get stronger. When the wind comes, they drop the dead so it doesn't constrict any longer. When Fall strips them bare, their leaves die a graceful dance right in front of me. There ain't no shame in their God-given decaying game. In the Spring, they bud a show of enduring tenacity. When their friends fall, they honor them by standing tall. Despite the storms they have seen, the faithful ones smile even if they look as if they have been through a maul.
I shed a tear when I see forests cleared, not because I think it's wrong to log, but because I can only hope and pray that I'd be just as submissively giving if the Master were to saw. Or if I'd offer shade to all who came my Way. As impressed as I am with the cedars and the oaks, the weeping ones by the River keep my soul in a thankful soak. Just as they dance and clap for me, I can't help but dance and clap too when I see their joyful cascades lifted up by the Wind while letting the Sun shine straight through them.
Ricky & Karrie Keehart
"They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death"