Picture yourself taking a walk in a forest preserve. It is a sunny, comfortably warm day. You start out on a narrow gravel path. The grass alongside the path is freshly green and scattered with tiny white and purple wild-flowers. As you move into the forest, you begin to notice a variety of trees. Some look old and gnarled. Others are saplings that bend and sway in the light breeze. There are all sizes and shapes and varieties.

Ahead you hear the sound of water babbling in a stream. As you walk, the sound gets louder and you know you are getting closer. The path curves and suddenly in front of you, you see a tree that represents your life. What do you see?

What about the height…the trunk…the bark…the branches…the leaves…the roots…the fruit or seed pods?

What do you see?

So a good friend and I were walking along what seemed to be the very graveled path that was pictured above. It was a sunny and beautiful day. The light breeze accompanied our conversation and as I was trying to imagine what type of tree my life represented, I realized that I was a little more consumed by how others saw that tree rather than how I viewed it.

I was able to figure out what I thought my tree looked like; it didn’t take very long. I knew exactly what it looked like. Yet when it dawned on me that the very tree that I may point out myself to be may very well be different from that of another person’s perspective, it didn’t make me feel very good. I wish I could justify some level of humility by saying “yeah, well…they’re just being too nice, it may appear to them that my tree looks a little more put together, but it’s really not…”.

Or to the other end of the spectrum of agreeing that “yes, they are right, it is uglier than I had hoped…”

How authentic am I, really?

For many months, as I drove southbound on route 53, there was an enormous billboard with a very attractive looking Jesus with the sunset hitting his brow at the perfect angle with his arms reached out and trying to hug all the cars rushing by. The words “Authentic Jesus” was emblazoned across the entire width of the board. When I finally realized that it had been up there for quite some time before noticing it, I have to admit, I drove by thinking “how cheesy”. That was the first thought that came and went. I was driving way too fast to even give it a second thought. Weeks later, a second thought came to my mind. “How does this one phrase, actually, not even a phrase, a description, capture the hearts of the thousands of cars rushing by and penetrate their souls at all? This so doesn’t give justice to the message they are trying to impart…shouldn’t they at least have a verse or something to help convey what this all is supposed to mean to someone who doesn’t know who Jesus is?”

I was so wrong.

Another few weeks later, glancing at it for probably the hundredth time, I wondered something new. I wondered, “what if someone driving by had never encountered the Jesus that I know. What if all they have been introduced to was a counterfeit or worse, what if all the believers in their lives show no authenticity to who they really are, therefore they would never equate the word authentic to Jesus.” So this made me think.

How do my actions set me apart from the rest of the world to show that an authentic Jesus lives in me? If someone who has yet to meet Jesus face to face encounters me in the grocery line, or the drive-through, or the post office, will they ever know? Does my life bear any resemblance to an authentic Jesus? When a good friend receives a promotion, am I genuinely blessed or secretly envious? When I walk into an immaculately clean home, am I secretly listing reasons why it can’t be possible for me? When Elizabeth heard that Mary’s womb housed the future Messiah instead of hers, was she genuinely happy for her? I believe she was.

Samantha Lee
Mothers Raising our Children