In the Company of Tree-climbers

In the Company of Tree-climbers

 
The first tree I remember climbing was in an orange orchard just north of Bakersfield, California. We had moved from East Los Angeles to Porterville, California. I was six years old and small-brained, in other words, easily entertained. Climbing a tree was a novelty to me and doing so was like climbing Mt. Everest. For a boy who had lived in the desert country of Arizona and later the inner city, well, you can imagine the moment I first climbed a tree and what it felt like. I was even more thrilled to discover that one of the avocado trees behind the house supported a tree house. While we lived there, if you couldn’t find me on the ground, I was most likely up a tree. I climbed trees every chance I got and continued to do so long after we moved on from that house.
     There is something about being up a tree that touches the heart of a kid. For one, he’s above everything he can see and for me that brought peace. It gave me a chance to be above my little world and think; perched on a branch, swaying back and forth, out of reach to things that hurt and sometimes confused me. For another, there’s the challenge of the climb and the freedom it represents. In the summer, fruit trees were the best to climb. I climbed everything from avocado trees, to cherry trees and peach trees. The reward for doing so is obvious. (Have you ever climbed a peach tree on a hot summer day, picked a peach and ate it while sitting in the tree that produced it?) In Junior High my friends and I climbed walnut trees to wage war on one another because we had a ready supply of ammunition growing on the trees. We also challenged one another’s crazy mode by seeing who was willing to jump from the higher branches. While attending Camp Wawona one summer, I climbed a pine tree to escape the clutches of a girl who wanted to kiss me; a fate, I thought at the time, worse than death. It was while visiting my parents in Gentry, Arkansas, that I learned the act of climbing trees could possibly be considered a crazy notion and socially outside of the acceptable norm for an adult, especially one looking at his 27th birthday. I had been invited to speak at the Arkansas/Louisiana camp meeting and was in the act of polishing my presentations when I decided to take a break. I was home alone and felt the urge to be outside and above the stress of research and study. So, I climbed a tree.
     My parents lived about a mile out of town. In addition to their house being surrounded by pastures inhabited by numerous cows, it was also surrounded by large oak trees. I selected one of the trees and made my climb. From the treetop I could see the water tower in town and closer still to the house a herd of cattle bunched together at the far end of one of the pastures. I’m still uncertain as to why I did it, but I began to bellow out a series of loud “moos” at the cows to see if they would respond in kind. They didn’t. But they did display a great deal of curiosity by crossing the pasture and congregating beneath the tree as if I were giving some sort of speech. When about 100 cattle or so were crowded against the barbed wire fence, pressing against one another, I began speaking to them, “I suppose you all are wondering why I called this meeting of the bovine mind…” I was in mid-stride of my “cattle” presentation when I heard someone calling out for my mother and turned to see a conservatively dressed woman come around the corner of the house. She saw me at the same time and her mouth fell open in surprise and then fear. I guess seeing a grown man up a tree giving a speech to a herd of cattle didn’t quite fit into her perception of reality or acceptable behavior. I started to explain why I was up the tree and to tell her that my mother was away, but I don’t think she heard me. Instead, she turned, tripped, almost falling to the ground and ran back in the direction of the driveway and her parked car. 
     To be completely candid, I lay all the responsibility for my tree climbing forays at the feet of whoever wrote the following song:
Zachaeus was a wee little man
And a wee little man was he
He climbed up in a sycamore tree
For the Lord he wanted to see
And as the Savior passed that way
He looked up in that tree
And He said, “Zachaeus, you come down!
For I’m going to your house today
For I’m going to your house to stay”
     I first heard that song in Sabbath School. What appealed to my six year old brain most was not the song. What caught my attention was that Zacchaeus climbed a tree. I had just discovered the joy of climbing trees, and in all places, church. But, I never climbed a tree just to get a glimpse of someone walking by – Zacchaeus did and the reward far exceeded his hopes and dreams.
***
     He scurried down the street, resisting the impulse to dart from one doorway to the next, but was unable to hide the furtive looks he cast over his shoulder and from one side of the street to the other. He was a wealthy man and that gave him power, his size did not. He was feared despite his stature. Disrespected and most definitely disliked. He was considered a traitor behind his back, a sinner to his face and as such he lived a lonely existence. He was feared because he could take whatever he wanted and was given full Roman authority to do so. He was the chief tax collector and like most tax collectors of his day he took a healthy cut of everything he collected. Until recently he felt very little guilt. The stories of one man changed all that. All Zacchaeus wanted was to catch a glimpse of that man, to hear him speak, to see for himself if the stories he’d heard were true, at least that’s what he told himself. What he really wanted was indefinable without using words like; forgiveness, acceptance and another word he wasn’t very familiar with – salvation.
     When Zacchaeus first heard Jesus was entering Jericho he ran out of his office and all the way to the city gate. By the time he had reached the gate Jesus was all ready surrounded by a crowd several people thick. Zacchaeus at first jumped up and down trying to see Jesus. But, he was too short and his vertical efforts were reflective of his height. He then tried to push his way through the crowd but got pushed back. His heart burning for one glimpse, he took off down the street ahead of the crowd looking for a vantage point from which to see Jesus. It was then that Zacchaeus saw the Sycamore tree, ran to it, scrambled to grasp the first branch and began climbing.
     Luke tells us that when Jesus reached the tree he looked up and told Zacchaeus to come down immediately. Jesus went on to say that he wanted to visit Zacchaeus in his home.  The original language indicates that Jesus not only wanted to visit Zacchaeus, He felt driven to do so.
     When Jesus announced that he was going to be a guest at Zacchaeus’ house the crowd was shocked that He would talk to a sinner let alone actually go to a sinner’s home. Zacchaeus must have been shocked, too. He had climbed that tree thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything more than a glimpse of the Savior and when his feet hit the ground, his heart opened up and he pledged right then and there that he would do more than just return the money he had wrongfully taken, he would give back four times the amount. When ignoring what the crowd thinks of you, even stepping outside of the acceptable norm just to see Jesus – change is inevitable.
     When Zacchaeus climbed that tree, he received more than just a look of acceptance and forgiveness, he received salvation. Jesus said in Luke 19:9-10, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” Zacchaeus joined the company of tree-climbers, the chief of which is Christ. For not long after His visit with Zacchaeus, Jesus too, climbed a tree, not to see us better, but to allow us to see Him better.
     I want to be in the company of tree-climbers. Not to see others better or to give them a chance to see me better. Rather, I want to climb trees to be in a place where Jesus can reach me. I want to climb trees to discover a quiet place above and away from the crowded day where I can see the Chief Tree-climber.
     Are you out of your tree? Climb back up. Join the Company of Tree-climbers.
~ Pastor Al