SLTfeb21pgs_cs.qxp_SLTtemplate 1/27/21 10:42 AM Page 24
FROM THE BACKWOODS PEW
Driftwood Many of the paths that I drive on daily spend a certain amount of time each year under water. Water from nearby rivers is the source of this cov- Antill ering. Actually, it might be more accurate to say the road and the river become one. The floodwaters sweep across the road into the surrounding forest; and now everything is covered with moving water. Wood floats. I know this because I went to college. As the floodwaters cover the woods and roads, it increases in depth. Soon wooden objects begin to float. Most things in the woods are made out of…wait for it…wood. Without an anchor, or a strong set of roots, or a large fat opossum holding it down, the various pieces of wood will begin to float. Since the forest and the road are now part of the river, it has a current. When the various pieces of wood begin to float, they also begin to move. Logs lying on the forest floor, broken branches, limbs, even trees uprooted by the wind all create a giant floating mat. This mat is slowly banging its way through the
woods, snagging on bushes and rooted trees. They have floated into an opening in the woods that is actually your road; and now those same bushes and standing timber have formed a barrier designed to keep the mat floating along the road. Eventually, the water level begins to drop. Without water to sustain it, the various pieces of wood will settle on the ground as the flood recedes. Having been relocated, the large mat of woody debris has settled…on your road. It can truly be an astonishing sight to see hundreds of logs and limbs laying on your once drivable road. It is drivable no longer. Perhaps the most significant piece of drifting wood would have been the Ark. Built by Noah at God’s command, and according to his directions, the Ark stands as the benchmark for driftwood. Chunks of wood laying on the forest floor wish they had such a purpose. They dream of such a rain that would lift them to the greatest heights, that they too might have historical significance. The Ark was built for a purpose, to preserve life, yes; but it ultimately was to shelter the righteous from judgment. God’s judgment was coming, like storm clouds on the horizon; and while Noah preached and pleaded, none would respond. While the mallets would
tap, and while the neighbors witnessed the colossal construction project, it wasn’t enough to cause them to turn and consider that maybe Noah was right. By faith Noah, being divinely warned of things not yet seen, moved with godly fear, prepared an ark for the saving of his household, by which he condemned the world and became heir of the righteousness which is according to faith. —Hebrews 11:7 The Ark stands as the reminder that judgment is coming again, a reminder that a Holy God will move to destroy those who have chosen to reject him! While we have painted it to be a décor in a child’s room or to decorate our nurseries, and to be a staple in any toy box, the reality of the Ark stands as an alarm against our rejection of God, and a foreshadowing of judgment yet to come. …and did not spare the ancient world, but saved Noah, one of eight people, a preacher of righteousness, bringing in the flood on the world of the ungodly… —2 Peter 2:5 When Hurricane Matthew slammed into southeastern North
Carolina, it brought record-level flooding to rivers and lakes. Dams teetered on the brink of collapse, rivers surged and spread across city and forest alike. Bridges were wiped out, roads cut in half. It was after the storm had subsided that I went to “recon” many of the properties I manage within those watersheds. Driftwood was everywhere. Every road included scattered logs and limbs, a testimony to the fact that wood floats. Driftwood gets its name because of its occupation; it drifts. Too many of us today live a life that resembles driftwood. We seem to have no purpose, no direction, and no destiny. We simply lie in wait, waiting for the next event to pick us up and move us to somewhere new, somewhere different. Like those in the days of Noah, we have turned off the voice of God, and we have ignored the approaching clouds. Even as the water begins to gather around our ankles, we refuse to accept that Jesus is the answer. While the doors of the Ark are open, we instead want to trust in our own forecast, and our ability to tread water. Where the Ark differs from driftwood is in its purpose and direction. Designed and created to provide a means to escape judgment, it had a purpose. And as to direction, God moved it through the storm. He had a landing point for the Ark. He had a place where the animals as well as the people would have the best access to be able to disperse into all the world. It would be the place of a new beginning. The Ark certainly holds a high place in the “Wood Hall of Fame,” but it isn’t on the top shelf. That spot is reserved for the Cross of Calvary. The Cross never floats; it never drifts. It is solid and secure; it is the wood that held the Creator, our Savior, Jesus Christ. The next time you see a piece of driftwood, think of the Ark. It was a wooden structure, made to save a family that believed. It was the first piece of driftwood. But don’t forget about the other piece of wood that was needed to secure salvation, to rescue us from the perils of the storm of God’s wrath on sin. It was a cross of wood, not drifting, but secured on a hill. Excerpted from Reflections on Rebellion and Redemption. Brad Antill, author; find it at www.onatreeforestry.com
24
l
FEBRUARY 2021 l Southern Loggin’ Times
CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY OPTED IN!
