As one might deduce from the name, Mississippi Palisades—a wonderful state park about an hour from our home—lies on the Illinois shore of the Mississippi River. It’s aptly named “Palisades” on account of several cliffs rising high above the river.
We first discovered the park nearly two decades ago and delighted at the overlooks that afford expansive views of the mighty Mississippi and Iowa shores to the west. Realizing that several hiking trails crisscross the park, we returned a short time later to do some hiking.
That’s when we found the High Point Trail on the park’s north end. From the parking lot near the campground, it’s only a moderate 3 ¼ mile out-and-back hike. With trees lining the entire trail, an autumn hike is particularly pleasant. The changing leaves, falling acorns, and crisp air delight the senses.
The highlight of the High Point Trail, though, is the high point at the trail’s end. There, on the edge of one of the palisades, stands an open-sided shelter offering great views.
We’ve hiked that trail several times over the years. It was one of our grandson’s first hikes, albeit he rode in a carrier on either mom’s or papa’s back! Needless to say, the Palisades has become one of our favorite relatively close parks.
Which is why we returned last Saturday to get in a brief Winter hike.
In the previous week, the area had received a blanket of snow—six inches or so—and had been extremely cold. But on Saturday, the sun shone brightly and the temperatures rose above the freezing mark. Great hiking weather!
The trail itself had been frequented often enough since the snowfall that the snow was packed down. At least we didn’t have to trudge through the whole six inches.
It’s funny how you can hike the same trail at different times of the year, and things pop out at you that went unnoticed before.
That was the case last Saturday.
We had passed by this particular tree a half-dozen times over the years, but perhaps the white background made the scene stand out and catch our attention.
A portion of the trail had at one time been a narrow, paved access road of some kind. Cutting into the hillside to create the path for the road left exposed a six-foot wall of earth. Over the years, much of the dirt eroded away, leaving the scene before us.
Here, the combination of bulldozer, weather, and time exposed the elaborate root system of a tree decades old. It looked so vulnerable—as if a good, stiff wind would topple the tree and leave a great void in the side of the hill. Surely, someday, with enough continued erosion, that will indeed be the fate.
But it will just as surely take a while. After all, we’ve hiked past this spot many times in the last twenty years; said tree may well be standing for twenty more, at least.
The roots run deep—far deeper than the five feet we could see—and wide. Still hidden from view is the extensive root network that stretches dozens of yards from where the trunk breaks the surface of the ground.
Reflecting on that intriguing sight sent my thoughts to two “tree” symbols in Scripture.
The first hymn in the biblical songbook—the Psalms—declares the blessedness of a spiritually stable individual. This one avoids the instability that comes when getting advice from, following the course of, or keeping company with those who have no use for God and his wisdom.
Instead, the stable soul delights in God’s word and will, regularly pondering how it applies to life.
And here comes the “tree” part.
David the hymnwriter/psalmist says this one…
…shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that brings forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf shall not wither; and whatever he does shall prosper. – Psalm 1:3
The prophet Jeremiah describes a similar picture of stability, but for a different but related reason.
Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes; but its leaf will be green, and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit.
– Jeremiah 17:7-8.
Trusting in, hoping in the Lord drives the roots immeasurably deep. They extend to the ends of God’s promises and graciously revealed truth. From Him and the nourishment of the rich soil of His Word comes a strength and stability that withstands the howling storms of life.
Interestingly, both of these sections include contrasting pictures.
In the psalm, David likens the person unmoored from God and His Word to chaff—the outer husk of a grain kernel—that is driven away by the breeze during the winnowing process. A strong, stable, fruitful tree versus a light, useless, wind-driven husk.
Since Jeremiah’s focus is on trust, he describes the person who trusts in himself, his abilities, and his strength (or those of another person…people…group…government…etc.).
Ever see those old western movies set in some arid location somewhere in Utah or Nevada? One of the iconic props to give an authentic feel for the place is the tumbleweed rolling past, driven by the desert breeze.
That’s how Jeremiah describes those who trust in self rather than in God:
Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart departs from the Lord. For he shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when good comes, but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land which is not inhabited.
– Jeremiah 17:5-6
Half an hour beyond the roots, we reached the shelter.
Enjoyed a few minutes taking in the snow-covered landscape and the partially frozen river below. Suddenly, a bald eagle soared past, twenty yards in front of us. He circled around, gliding by us once again.
And yet, my mind kept jumping back to the roots….
A short time later, we trudged back down the path from the pinnacle of the palisade, once again passing by the tree. Glancing once more at the roots, I wondered….
Is that my life??
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