The CATHEDRAL TIMES The weekly newsletter of the Cathedral of St. Philip · Serving Atlanta and the World · August 8, 2021
GIANTS IN THE FIRE By Dan Murphy, Director of Communications I’ve been thinking a lot about trees this summer. About the wind whistling through the pines as yet another afternoon thunderstorm rolls through. And about the Spanish moss draping over the branches of Lowcountry live oaks. And about the countless shoots and scrub trees popping up in my yard, evidence of a wet, hot summer. Mostly, though, I’ve been thinking about the giant sequoia trees on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Anna, the kids, and I took a trip to California to see these enormous trees in Sequoia National Park earlier this summer. These monuments of God’s creation grow up to 300 feet tall with trunk diameters of 20-30 feet. The oldest ones are over 3000 years old. We were in awe as we drove up to the first grove of them, almost unfathomably wide and tall, with the morning sun poking through their upper branches. We took plenty of photos, only to later realize that such pictures do no justice to the mass of these living giants. I can hardly imagine what it would be like walking through the woods, exploring the unknown mountain forests, and stumbling unexpectedly upon such behemoths. Many of the largest trees in the park are now easily accessible, with paths and interpretive signage leading to them. It was hard to miss that nearly all of the signs mentioned fire. Sequoias, I learned, can only grow to such expansive sizes in ideal conditions: the sunlight and soil must be just right, and fire does most of the work of preparing the way. Periodic low-intensity fires clear the smaller vegetation in these forests, and leaves the canopy open for the sequoias to get direct sun. The smaller trees and brush become nutrient-rich soil. The fires even open the sequoias’ cones to release seeds, bearing the next generation. Throughout this process, the tannic acid in these giants’ sap protects the trunk from burning, and is later used to seal up wounds that would otherwise be subject to infection and decay. The trees bear the fire, are changed by it, and continue on until the next. We are a bit like those sequoias, aren’t we? We sometimes find ourselves surrounded by fire, which feels as though it will overwhelm us, and we have no choice but to stand in the midst of it. Scripture tells us that “when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Isaiah 43:2b). This is the hope I need to be reminded of ! When I consider the challenges many of us face – stress at work or in our families, mental health crises, endemic racism, and this still-going COVID-19 pandemic – I rest in the assurance that God is bigger than all of it. And, if I can bear the heat and do the next right thing – always with the help of God and my communities – I will be better prepared for the inevitable next fire. Paradoxically, the same fires which threaten our existence are the ones from which we can grow the most, finding ourselves closer to God and our neighbor. Unlike the trees, we don’t have everything we need to survive life’s biggest challenges alone. Turning to God helps me to find hope for tomorrow, and turning to my loved ones and trusted friends helps me to understand that others share in the same difficulties I do. In fact, all my role models are people who have walked through life’s biggest fires and not been consumed. No doubt, they show their scars and have been transformed by the fires of the past, but still they stand broad, steadfast in their faith in the abundance of God’s bright sunlight and rich soil. May we be those tall trees for others, examples of the faith and beacons of the love of God.