I don’t want to be a shrub

The curtain opens on Jeremiah 17, and I am startled:

“The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron;

with a point of diamond it is engraved on the tablet of their heart,

and on the horns of their altars…”

That’s some serious dictation.

“Can you lend me a pen?”

“Here, have a chisel.”

Their kids have such fond memories of their special pagan worship times:

“While their children remember their altars and their Asherim,

beside every green tree and on the high hills…”

In verse five Jerry adds,

“Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength,

whose heart turns away from the LORD.”

He won’t be like a tree planted by the water, oh no. The prophet tells us,

“He is like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see any good come.”

I live in a semi-desert, and the parched and prickly spaces I walk through during my morning prayer times are no fun at all. I know I don’t want to be a shrub.

Oh, finally, here I find hope in verse seven:

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD.”

I will trust in the Lord, He will be my trust.

I will be Marcos Tree, not Marcos Shrub:

“He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream,

and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green,

and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

Verse ten could scare some, but I find great comfort in it:

“I the LORD search the heart and test the mind…

I rejoice in the fact that He has His eye on me.”

Because when I am off key, His Spirit points that out to me.