A young friend posted a photo of one of her favorite trees a few weeks ago.   It was a lovely sycamore tree near her house.  I couldn’t help but respond when I saw it. 

Since I moved with the Lovely Lady into her childhood home several years back, we’ve planted more than half a dozen trees on the property.  Her dad loved the trees here, having planted many of them himself well more than half a century ago.  The only problem is, most of those he planted are no longer living and we felt the need to repopulate the area a bit.

My favorite, by far (well, for right now, anyway), is the sycamore tree we planted 4 years ago in the backyard.  The pretty sapling was just over seven feet tall when we dug the hole to set the root ball into on that early fall day.  The gorgeous tree now measures about twenty-five feet to the tip of its crown.

I mentioned the tree to my young friend and told her sycamores were also my favorite.  Now, she wants me to tell her what my top five favorite trees are.  I’m cogitating on that question.  Answering will take time.

But, the sycamore…

Do you know the sycamore tree grows to over one hundred feet tall?  And, it can live to several hundred years old.  Three to four hundred, I’m told.

Four hundred years!  The mind boggles.  I’m pretty sure this old house will be long gone by then.  No.  I’ve worked on the house for a few years now.  It’ll be gone.  I’m sure of it.

But, the tree we planted will still be living.  I wish I could say the same about other parts of my legacy.  Of course, some things I want you to forget even before I’m gone.  But, not all of it.

We all want to be remembered.  For the good things.

I’m sorry.  This brain of mine—the part of me that is always wandering—seems to be headed to a conversation about a little man.  A short man who, dead most of two thousand years, lives on in our stories and songs.

It must be the subject of the sycamore that has done it—made my mind wander here.  Of course, the sycamore in this story is a sycamore fig, which is indigenous to the Holy Land.  Unrelated to the sycamore (or London Plane) trees we know in the United States, they are more closely related to a mulberry tree.

I don’t know how short Zacchaeus was, just that he wasn’t tall enough to see over the crowd that followed the Teacher.  And it was essential to him!  He needed to see this Man.  So, he climbed into the lower limbs of the sycamore tree, not a great feat even for a short man.  The limbs of the sycamore fig tree are close to the ground.

He didn’t need to climb high, just higher than the heads of the crowd.  It was enough.  Not only could he see the Teacher—the Teacher saw him and invited himself to the little tax collector’s house.

Beyond the words that compelled him to climb back down from the tree and the insistence that Jesus would go to his house, we don’t know if Jesus directed any other words to Zacchaeus at all.  None are reported.

That didn’t stop Zacchaeus from repenting of his sins and promising to make restitution—as much as four-fold what he had cheated people out of.

Think of it!  There were no words of reproach; no bargaining for his confession.  In the presence of the Son of God, Zacchaeus recognized who he had become and turned from his sin and greed.

And, over two thousand years later, we still remember that sycamore tree and the man who saw Jesus and was changed forever.  Our kids still sing the song about the wee little man.  But, he almost looms tall in our telling of the story.

Salvation comes when we recognize who we are, but more importantly, who He is.  In His presence, we cannot remain unchanged.

Somehow, like the little man, I often can’t see the One I claim to follow over the heads of the people who clamor along the way.

It’s time for another long look, isn’t it?  And maybe longer than just a look. 

The prophet Jeremiah knew that we need to dwell—to settle in—in His presence.  He described the people who trust in Him and have made Him their hope.  And, he says such people will be like trees planted along the riverbanks, trees that have a ready source of water, enough to stem any extended drought or trial.

I read that passage again as I wrote today, and I laughed as I remembered the trees that grow down by the rivers and creeks near us.  Everywhere, along the banks where the Lovely Lady and I wander, we see them—sycamores—growing beside the source of their sustenance, roots going deep.

I almost want to ask the question; Shall We Gather at The River?  Maybe, we could stay there awhile with our Teacher.

I’m sure He’ll see us there.

I wonder if He’ll be coming to my house for tea.  Maybe, we can sit in the shade of my sycamore tree and talk about that other one and the man who climbed into its branches all those years ago.

What a long shadow he’s cast—the little man and his tree.

Planted by the rivers of water, we’ll leave a legacy.

A long one, I hope.  Maybe three or four hundred years. 

Or longer.

 

“But blessed are those who trust in the Lord
    and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.
They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
    with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat
    or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
    and they never stop producing fruit.”
(Jeremiah 17: 7-8, NLT)

“A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit.” (Old Greek Proverb)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.