We cannot faithfully look at a tree and hold tight to our idols of order and tidiness. A tree takes an axe to those idols, as it calmly grows with crooked branches. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t romanticize chaos or disorder, for it does strive to hold its shape and structure. It wants order and aims for structure. But it doesn’t simply topple over when its root is introduced to its first boulder. It doesn’t wait to grow until the ground below it and air above it is cleared of all obstacles. A tree reminds us that a fruitful life means growth, and growth is messy. It twists and bends. It warps and grasps. It lives and grows, mess and all. Governed by it’s Maker, a tree grows straight with crooked branches.

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