Behold, I Have Seen a Tree
Years ago, I chose to begin practicing contemplation. I read many books by beloved authors whose descriptions of the contemplative spiritual life resonated with me deeply. In some ways, I have been a contemplative all of my life. However, I lacked language and understanding until I was well into adulthood. My contemplative practice led me, and continues to lead me, on a very long journey—a slow, ponder-filled, incremental sojourn into the heart and beyond. When I say slow, I mean slow.
Most people who are drawn to the contemplative life start out thinking they have a good idea of what they are getting into. Those who don’t give up on it, look back after years and realize they feel like they know far less than when they began. I know I certainly do.
But this is kind of the point.
There are times, though, when our experience deepens in a significant moment that we hold onto like an unexpected treasure. Times when what we have read about from those who have gone further ahead than we have abruptly become clear. It is entirely appropriate in those moments to take joy in the revelation that the heart has been granted by grace. I want to share such a moment with you and some of the reflections that have followed.
Recently, I was out trail walking surrounded by tall trees with bright green leaves. I was alone with the silence of the woods, shaded from the hot sun and unusually peaceful. These are prayer walks for me. A time to find the secret place in the heart where Christ dwells and dwell with him in the silence of the prayer of the heart. I paused at the top of a rise and looked ahead on the trail. Not far from me was a larger tree that stood out from the others. All of my senses became focused on that tree. I was transfixed by everything about it—the size of the trunk, the colour of the bark, the colours of the leaves, the shape and contour of the spreading branches, the heights to which it reached. By intuition alone, I knew that I was seeing this tree with what Saint Paul calls the eyes of the heart.
My physical senses had temporarily become one with my spiritual senses. For the first time in my life, I realized that I wasn’t looking at a tree. Rather, I was seeing a tree. This is hard to explain in words. It was as though I became aware of the life within the tree, the spark of God’s creative action within it. Or one could even say that if the tree had a name, I had learned it… I now knew this tree in a way that is beyond words, beyond intellect, beyond its tangible form.
I responded with the only word that I could: “Beautiful.”
I was in awe and grateful for this gift. I have experienced this only once before in my life, and it was a long time ago. At that time, I did not have a clue about what to think. However, this time I recognized what was happening. Part of the wonder of this moment for me was that I had read about it and understood the contemplative theology associated with this kind of seeing.
Lately, I have been thinking about that experience. I now experience this same seeing in nature more frequently. It is a great gift, and I don’t question it because sensing this deeper connection with nature is proving to be important in helping me heal from some significant pain in my body and soul. What I have been reflecting on is my initial one-word response, “Beautiful.”
Beauty is mysterious. I was reminded of this while reading one of Walter Thiessen’s recent Substack posts, which is well worth a read.
I could have stood there and overanalyzed what I was experiencing, diluting it by attempting to examine the nuts and bolts behind what was happening—or worse, explain it away. Instead, I embraced the grace Christ granted me and, in so doing, embraced the mystery of it all. A spiritual life of contemplation teaches us to become aware and comfortable with mysteries and with beauty. We need not explain them and do not feel the need to do so. This got me thinking about human beings.
Along my contemplative journey, I have learned and believe that all human beings are created in the image of God. This won’t be unfamiliar with most people, but many do not take the time to ponder what this reality means. I believe that because we all share in the image of God, we are all connected, what Jim Forest refers to as our “hidden wholeness.” Human beings are irrevocably interconnected, for at our deepest core, within our hearts, we share in a common source, our dearest Abba, who created us out of love.
This is where contemplation and the stark reality of our world meet like two rivers running counter-current to one another. I am gaining a vision of others through the eyes of my heart that sees within them this hidden beauty. This vision is challenged by what I see with my everyday eyes, as terrible cruelty, violence, and desolation are happening all around the world in wars, political conflicts, social polarization, and a rise in unbridled hatred fueled by misinformation and lies. I see the abuse of power and the growing expanse between the wealthy and the poor. My desire for justice is often tempted to abandon what I believe about restoration and healing and consider revenge as an appropriate course of action (may it never be so in my heart or mind!)
Bear witness to my inner conflict.
Return to the tree in the woods and a vision of the depths of its beauty and vibrant life. I am realizing that this gift of seeing is a stepping stone to the vision of others that Christ is granting me. If I am willing, Christ will expand the vision of the eyes of my heart, so that I can increasingly see into the hearts of others.
It is as if God is saying, “Now that you have seen the fullness of the hidden beauty in the natural world around you and understand that you can see in this way, you must learn the even more important sight: See the beauty within others. See beyond the outer trappings that are indeed twisted and in need of healing. See the hidden beauty within every one of them, for it is only love that can heal all that covers over the beauty of who they truly are. When you see my image clearly within them, despite all the surface details, you will see my image looking back at you. You will see the inherent beauty within them—and it is to this beautiful essence that you must learn to speak.”
This is where contemplation and the stark reality of the world meet, and the possibility of transformation exists. I am the one who has been granted a gift to see beyond the surface. I am being transformed and choosing to open my heart to the changes there. This is what I can do, for I cannot reach into another and force them to change. If I embrace this contemplative peace-making way of seeing others, I can offer something which so many human beings have never heard or been told: “I see the beauty within you. I see the face of Christ within you. I believe we are deeply connected in a way that is far deeper than any of our differences could ever be. I believe I can love you—even if you are unwilling to love me.”
In this way of seeing, I believe that just as I can see the beautiful essence of a tree and love it for what it is, so to I can see the beauty in human beings—not for what they look like, how they act or do not act, or their ideological and political views. We are all something far more meaningful and important than what we believe is of utmost importance. There is an inherent beauty in you, me, our friends, families, and neighbours, our adversaries and enemies. The image of God at the very centre of our beings cannot be removed. It is there, and if we have eyes to see, we can see it in one another.
We are all, in a sense, like that first tree I truly saw. We are all beautiful and loved because God’s eye sees us for who we truly are and will always be, no matter what our blemishes and blights may be. God knows our secret name, and God sees us and the vibrant beauty alive within all people. This beauty, God preserves and nothing can destroy it, for it is God’s very own image.
In all of this, there is a constant, divine invitation. Come to the water and be curious about the deepest parts of yourself. Stand still and open the eyes of your heart so that you can begin to see what God sees in you. You are invited to know that you are like a tree, which is seen for the beautiful creation that it has always been, is, and always will be. When you begin to understand this truth, you begin to see and know God in the light of the divine nature, which is love. Then, as Jeremiah wrote so long ago, you “…shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes; but its leaf will be green, and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit.”