The Way of the Acorn

a poem by Peter M. Ivey

Click below to hear this week’s poem read aloud.

Photo by Kiwihug on Unsplash

The Way of the Acorn

An inch or two below the dirt,
reclining in the dark damp earth,

the acorn pushes down its root,
slow and steady, not knowing soon,

surrendered to the water's ways,
drinking deeply, inviting change,

it must now trust what comes to pass,
before it finds the light at last,

and bares the fruit that's now not seen,
but one day will a newness bring.

by Peter M. Ivey

Two weeks ago, I shared a poem entitled Sister Monarch in which I described my urge to dissect a Monarch butterfly’s chrysalis after it failed to hatch within the scientifically suggested timeframe. Thankfully, I decided to wait, and only two days later, a fresh, limp, magical Monarch emerged on our doorframe, proving that patience is often the key ingredient to transformation. After this eye-opening experience with the Monarch, you would think that the value of waiting would have found its way into my mind, body and soul. However, this week, my actions proved that I still have a long way to go.

There is a towering chestnut oak tree on the Mountains-to-Sea Trail near our home in Asheville that I’ve fallen in love with over the years. It’s planted in a bend of the trail all alone, and it’s deeply-grooved and weathered bark always catches my attention. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve hugged it’s barrel-chested trunk on numerous occasions and have often leaned against it’s long grey body to pray.

Needless to say, this particular tree has come to mean a lot to me, and so when I discovered that it was dropping its acorns with the changing of the seasons, an idea began to sprout: What if I were to grow a sapling from this very chestnut oak in our backyard and could enjoy a part of this tree back at home?

So, on my next trail run, I gathered up at least a dozen acorns that were lying at the tree’s feet like a giddy 10 year old boy, took them back to the house, watched a few YouTube videos on how to sprout an acorn, dropped them into plastic cups filled with top soil and a dash of manure compost, and set them in the windowsill of our kitchen.

You can probably guess what happened next. After a few weeks of waiting and not seeing any activity at the surface of the soil, I began to wonder if these acorns were duds. Unlike the episode with the Monarch butterfly, I couldn’t resist the urge to investigate, so I grabbed one of the clear Solo cups that contained my experiment and removed the top layer of dirt until I could see the acorn. And what do you think I discovered?

The acorn was doing exactly what it was designed to do. When I gave the shiny brown capsule a tug, its newly formed root resisted my efforts and held the little seed in place. Once again, nature was doing its thing, and once again, my lack of patience and trust in the process was made laughably obvious.

As I write this, I’m reminded of the story of Jesus healing Jairus’ dying daughter in Mark 5:21-43. To summarize, Jairus finds his way to Jesus, desperate for him to perform a miracle and save his little girl. Jesus is moved by Jairus and begins to follow him to his house. Along the way, however, Jesus stops to tend to a woman who’s just brushed his robe with her fingertips, an act of faith that heals her of her own sickness.

During this pause on the way to Jairus’ home, a pause that must have been so aggravating and confounding in light of his daughter’s imminent death, a few people from Jairus’ household find him, confirming his greatest fear in the waiting: “Your daughter is dead. Why bother the Teacher any more?”¹

Why bother the Teacher any more?

This is beyond hope…

All is lost…

There is no one who can save us now…

Why even bother…

So often, I find myself entertaining the same question that Jairus’ friends posed, allowing despair to find its way into my heart and mind, ultimately causing me to doubt the goodness and faithfulness and power of God. As was the case for Jairus’ crew, it’s the slowness of the work of God that often leads me to that doubt and despair. Waiting is so stinkin’ hard, and not knowing what lies on the other side of the bend in the road is often excruciating!

Jesus’ response to Jairus in the face of his friends’ question snaps us back to the reality of God, reminding us that God know’s what he’s doing, though the way may be difficult for us to understand or embrace.

“Don’t listen to them; just trust me.”²

From here, Jesus makes his way to Jairus’ house, finds his daughter, takes her hands into his own, and breathes life back into her body. Though the wait must have been overwhelming for Jairus, not know if he’d ever see his daughter alive again, Jesus ultimately brought about redemption and healing in his own time and in his own way.

Through such wonderfully playful experiences with the Monarch a few weeks ago and now through the acorn, God has been whispering these words to me, inviting me to trust him in the waiting…

Nothing is beyond hope with me at the helm…

All is certainly not lost…

I am always capable of saving, no matter how dire the circumstance…

Wait on me, and watch what I do…

I am for you…You can trust me…I love you!

If you find yourself in a season of waiting, wondering what God is up to and why he’s taking so long to carry you through difficult circumstances, to answer your prayers, or to bring about the healing you’re desperate to receive, I pray that today’s poem and the story of Jesus and Jairus might offer you a renewed sense of hope. God hasn’t forgotten you. He sees you. He loves you. He is for you!

“I pray to God—my life a prayer—
and wait for what he’ll say and do.
My life’s on the line before God, my Lord,
waiting and watching till morning,
waiting and watching till morning.”
~ Psalm 130:5-6

Weekly Invitation

Spend some time meditating on Mark 5:21-43 using the guide below.

A Guide for Lectio Divina³⁴

Before you begin reading the passage, spend a few moments in silence. Close
your eyes. Take a few deep breaths. Ask God to slow your hearts and minds, to
allow you to be fully present to His Spirit, and invite Him to speak to your
heart through the scriptures.

1) Read (2-5 minutes)

Read the passage aloud to one another slowly from beginning to end with a
posture of receiving. You might consider sitting with your palms open as you read
the story. Invite the Holy Spirit to speak to your heart, and listen for a single word
or phrase from the passage that catches your attention. Pause for a few
moments of silence after the reading.

2) Reflect (5-10 minutes)

Read the passage aloud slowly for a second time, asking the Holy Spirit to help
you enter the story with your imagination. Close your eyes and picture the scene
unfolding. Who are you in the story? What do you see, hear, smell, or feel? What
emotions are you experiencing? What are you doing? It may be helpful to pause
for a few moments of silence after reading the passage to allow your imagination
to play out the scene.

3) Respond (5-10 minutes)

Read the passage aloud for a third time. In this reading, ask the Holy Spirit,
“What are you inviting me to hear or understand, receive or let go of through this
passage? In what ways are you inviting me into a deeper knowing of self and of
you through the words, phrases, or imaginative exploration of this passage?”
Once again, it may be helpful here to pause for a few moments of silence after
the reading. Afterward, respond to the Lord in prayer.

4) Rest (5 minutes)

In this final step, read the passage aloud one last time, and simply rest in God’s
presence. Consider closing this time in prayer, praying for one another and your
marriage, and giving thanks to God for his many blessings.

1. Mark 5:35

2. Mark 5:36

3. https://hallow.com/blog/how-to-pray-lectio-divina/

4. The prompts to Read, Reflect, Respond, & Rest were found in Dallas Willard’s wonderful book, Hearing God: Developing a Conversational Relationship with God. This is a book I highly recommend!