A Mast Year

“Ask them, ³ ‘Who of you is left who saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Does it not seem to you like nothing?”

 

The local fellowship of believers I worship with moved into temporary facilities yesterday and our pastor preached from Haggai chapter two. He asked the question first posed by God to the people of Jerusalem in verse three, “Does it not seem to you like nothing?” Being the oldest member (and it is not even close) of our congregation and having a lifetime of interest and participation invested in the church, I have had a many troubling thoughts about the state of God’s House as of late. His words moved me to those very thoughts while I sat with the faithful.

Maybe my concerns are well founded for me. At seventy-two years of age, I have watched a literal avalanche of saints succumb to the forces of divine appointment and leave, without adequate replacements in line, or so I drearily surmised. It may be wintertime for me, but I want His church to live in perpetual Spring, Summer, and Fall. But I have to say, when doubt persists and dark thoughts prevail the house seems like nothing compared to what it did in my past.

But faithful to the text our pastor read:

^“Be strong, all you people of the land,’ declares the Lord, ‘and work. For I am with you,’ declares the Lord Almighty. ⁵ ‘This is what I covenanted with you when you came out of Egypt. And my Spirit remains among you. Do not fear.’⁶ “This is what the Lord Almighty says: ‘In a little while I will once more shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. ⁷ I will shake all nations, and what is desired by all nations will come, and I will fill this house with glory,’ says the Lord Almighty. ⁸ ‘The silver is mine and the gold is mine,’ declares the Lord Almighty.⁹ ‘The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house,’ says the Lord Almighty. ‘And in this place, I will grant peace,’ declares the Lord Almighty.” 2:4-9

 

“Be strong, and work for I am with you, I covenanted with you, my Spirit remains among you, don’t fear” all familiar to me as I have repeated them hundreds of times over the years. But I heard them again and this time with a picture in my mind that didn’t really match this passage until it did.

 

I trimmed some limbs on a water oak the other day and was blown away by the number of acorns it held. The small branch I cut was heavy with them and peering up into the tree I saw the rest of the tree followed suit. It was loaded! It appears that we are in a mast year, when the nut bearing trees produce an overwhelming harvest. As a boy I had learned some weather signs from the older generation around me. The amount of hair on a wooly worm in summer, the fatness of squirrels in fall, and the number of nuts on trees forecasted the severity of oncoming winter. Or so we thought. Until I learned about mast years, I thought the extra acorns were merely a gift tress gave to the animals which survived on their provision. But mast years say very little about squirrels and deer who eat from their store, and more about the trees themselves.  

 

It seems that trees are vitally concerned with the birth and survival of their next generation(s). I confess to my own ignorance in these things, but I don’t think of trees as being thoughtful parents, or for that matter parents at all! Trees just happen, or so I thought. The reality is trees deliberately guarantee future generations by overworking during years we call mast. They produce huge numbers of nuts in hope that some will survive deer, squirrels, and harsh winters. They receive a signal from somewhere that says, let’s operate in abundance so that some can survive and if everything works right, several nuts fall in good spots and are hidden from the view of hungry animals. Their hiddenness becomes their secret to survival, that and the protective presence of the parent trees who create just the right environment for their germination and growth, staying sheltered beneath the parent’s canopy until the older tree is sickened and dies. The young tree will grow very slowly in a decelerated pattern until that time arrives. Then, it is their time to directly receive the growth giving rays of the sun and grow to their potential.  

 

What does this have to do with the glory of the house? Haggai said to the assembly, this houses’ greatness will be measured by its occupants and not by architectural accomplishment. The desire of nations (Jesus) will come and fill the house with glory. God spoke to my spirit and said, “This is a mast year. I will preserve a witness to the generations to come, pouring out of my Spirit upon all flesh.” God will produce many sons and daughters as his witnesses over the entire earth and all its people. 

 

And what about me and the others like me who have viewed what is happening to the house with tear clouded vision? Since we are not seeing as we should, is there still a need for us? Without a doubt, yes! The new sons and daughters need us, especially now in this brutal winter, to stand tall and firm, to offer protection and along with fellow believers of mature age, create an environment of nurture, growth, and discipline so that on that day when our branches no longer reach to the sun, there are others whose limbs will stretch to the heavens. In The Hidden Life of Trees, Peter Wohlleben asserts:

“A tree is not a forest,” they do not live in isolation from each other. Trees, in their collective guise as a forest, have the ability to change their ecosystems by moderating extremes of temperature or turbulence. In this environment trees have been known to live extremely long.”

 

God’s covenant is to us, our children, and our children’s children. In the same way, we have a sacred pledge to uphold for those who have already gone before and to those of Generations future. Therefore “having done all to stand, let us therefore stand.”