Acorn: The Story That Never Ends

I want to tell you a story, engage your imagination, and take you on a journey. I intend to show you that even the most mundane things are created to be the most glorious, and my story starts in the beginning, in its seed form.

Before I knew I existed, I was born upon a branch of the largest tree in the forest, the strongest and the most glorious of all the trees, the Oak Tree. I grew amongst the leaves of this mighty oak, feeling the strength, the security and the closeness of my mother tree. I felt the wild as it blew against the branches and felt the sway as they moved, and I moved with them; I felt the sense of safety and security when even the strongest of gusts hit and knew I was secure. As I grew, I took on form and became an acorn. I carried in me the image of my mother having her DNA and her attributes locked up inside of me, and I knew I had the potential to become just like my mother, strong and tall, faithful, and true. 

Courtesy of Tabitha Corrigan 2023

And so, I grew; I swelled, took on form and developed on the branch that I was attached to, becoming aware of my environment and noticing the changes around me. First, I noticed that the wind direction had changed, and there was a distinct nip in the air that I had not experienced before; I wondered what this meant and why it was getting dark quicker at night, and the temperature was colder. I asked where this would lead, and I was uncertain what would happen to me, but I knew I had to hang on, for there were still things that needed to mature. I had no idea of my purpose and what would happen to me, but I knew I would not stay the same; that change was coming. 

Then, one day, when the wind was strong, and the branches were moving around, I suddenly felt a detachment from the branch, and the cup that had held me became dry and no longer supplied me with my daily sustenance. I felt on my own, but I did know that I was full of the goodness that my mother had given me and that I felt hope. And all of a sudden, I was falling, leaving the safety and the comfort of my home, losing sight of the branches and the leaves, and plummeting down to a different place that I had no reference for, something new and something inexperienced. I hit the ground, bounced back up, and dropped again and again before I stopped moving and came to rest. I looked up and saw the bows and branches of the tree above me and realised that the place I had called home was now out of reach, and this was a new chapter in my journey to becoming. 

And there I lay, alone, uncomfortable, forgotten, ejected and vulnerable, longing to be back connected to my mother, surrounded by the branches and the leaves, safe amid greatness. I pondered what would become of me and where I would end up and dreamed of what I might become. But how could this little acorn amount to much? How could this tiny seed become anything? For all there was that I could see was a slow and lonely deterioration until there was nothing left of me as I returned to the soil and died. As the brown leaves fell and covered the ground, they covered me too and even in their death, they could protect and keep me from even the coldest of nights; I settled into what would be. 

One morning, I heard rustling leaves and tiny footsteps coming closer. I was aware of something I had never experienced before; I knew it was a creature unlike myself. I could hear it breathing and sniffing, and I listened to this strange noise coming from it, which filled me with dread. What could this be? Is it something to fear or embrace? Is it come to do me harm or to save me somehow? I just had to wait for it to come into view, but how could I see it when the leaves covered me? And then suddenly, it's above me. I feel its presence, warmth, breath, and heart. Then, with an impressive sweep, the leaves are removed, and I am exposed. And there standing above me is what I have feared. I had heard of the other acorns in the tree talking amongst themselves about a mythical creature called a squirrel that inhabited the woods and sorted out young acorns to devour. I saw that he had found me, and without hesitation, it reached down and, horror of horrors, picked me up from the ground and placed me in its mouth. I was captured, and now it was in his power to do whatever he wanted. Was I to end up as just a meal for a hungry animal? Was that to be the end of me? As I felt enclosed in his massive mouth, I felt its hot tongue and its sharp teeth; I dreaded the worst. But then, without the expected crushing into my flesh of those large sharp teeth, I felt movement as it started to run away from under the tree; I was being transported to another place, but for what purpose? I could only think that it was to take me to a safe place where it could eat me or feed me to its children. The prospect was terrifying, and it was hard for me not to scream, but I was held captive and awaited my fate. Now, I have a new feeling of movement differently, as what I discovered later was digging in soft earth, making a hole in the ground, a pit that would hold me captive. Then, very quickly, I was released from its mouth and dropped into the hole it had made. I fell into this pit, and resting at the bottom, I felt contained and strangely comforted as I felt the soft earth upon my skin. And as quickly as I had been dropped, I was covered in earth, and it became dark. Being covered felt like a grave, there was no light, there was nothing to see, and the only thing I felt was the closeness of the earth and the moisture that it contained.

There I was, unable to do anything, move and cry out for rescue, with only my thoughts to keep me company, and the what-ifs dominated those thoughts. What if this is the end? What if it comes back and claims me for its next meal? What if there is some special purpose for these actions that have overtaken me? I lay there as time passed by, feeling that the earth was getting colder, sending shivers through me and hearing the rhythm of the earth as it goes through the cycles of the season, hearing the ice growing on the surface of the ground as the frost formed, hearing it penetrating the earth and coming down towards me, feeling the brutal coldness of the ice that surrounded me and embraced me, holding my breath expecting the end to arrive at any moment. But no, that was not the end; that was just the process of nature that I was tied to, that I was inexplicably linked to, that I knew I had my part to play but had no idea what that would be. I had no choice; this was my lot, and I had to accept it, even if it never changed or if rescue never materialised. Then, after what seemed like forever, things started to change. The hardness of the frost gave way to the softness of the earth once again, and it took on that inviting, moist feel that engendered desires in me for change. And I felt warm coming from the sun that penetrated the earth and touched the very heart of me, the same sun that I had felt up there in the branches, the place of my birth, that same sun whose light had brought life and a sense of purpose in me and that rose in me once again, that desire so somehow feel that sun upon my skin once again, that hunger to feel its warmth, its light, its life-giving qualities. But how, how could I get out of this hole? How could I reach up and be touched by the sun once again? How? 

Oh, what was that? What is happening to me? What is that strange feeling of movement from my innermost parts? What is coming alive in me? What is going on?

Something is bursting out of my hard skin, breaking through from my innermost being, forcing itself out of my skin, white and hairy with a mind of its own, pushing downwards into the moist earth, burying itself in the darkness. I can feel it pushing away from me but at the same time securing me, changing me, and retrieving things that I had enjoyed when I was attached to the tree. It brings me nourishment, fresh water, and much-needed nutrients, and I love their taste. And as these nutrients flood my being, I feel alive in a way that I had never experienced before, and that desire for the light is growing stronger and stronger in me, effecting change to my very being. There is this innate desire now to push upwards just like when my root pushed downwards; now, the whole of me wants to push upwards out of this pit and into the light of the sun once again. As each day goes by, I get closer to the surface; I feel more of the sun's warmth, and all of my being wants to be basking in that sunshine. Then, one day, there it is. I see the light and push forward, straining with every ounce of effort in my being in a last-ditch attempt to break through.  And I’m there; I can spread out, expand, and finally be who I dreamt of becoming, longed to be alive, and bask in the sunshine. And oh, the joy and feel of the light entering my very being, feel the changes it brings and the release of energy to replenish my depleted stores. I feel the acceleration and growth as I push up higher, wanting to get closer, to get bigger, and to fill this place with my presence. My purpose is to live and grow, living for the now, enjoying what is in the now and pushing up higher. And I stayed in that place of growth for a long time, and through the years, I continued to grow, reaching for the sky, feeling the sun upon my leaves, the wind in my branches and the rain as it fell and watered my feet. I was strong, resolute, confident, and majestic; I felt like royalty and alive. Oh, the joy when I produced my own acorns that came and hung on my branches and repeated the cycle of life that had brought me through this process, the pleasure of being fruitful, very fruitful. The joy of bringing comfort and securing the birds of the air and even the squirrels that had made it so that I could live this life by conveniently forgetting where it had secreted me when hungry to make a meal of me. And that was my break, I could have been lost, food for the squirrel never making it to my destiny, but that wasn’t to be. 

But now, a new chapter in the story is about to take place in the life of this oak, one that is tragic and even heartbreaking. With so much to live for, with such status and purpose, nature is about to inflict a fatal blow that, like many such incidents, comes unexpectedly, without warning, suddenly. 

And there arose a storm that gathered in the south, a mighty gathering of nature's energy ready to unleash upon the land and such ferocity that nature could muster. Being driven in the direction dictated, it set its course towards the land and the unsuspecting forest that was the home of the oak tree. As the trees saw the approaching storm clouds and felt the increased speed of the wind, they braced themselves for the onslaught of the storm, hoping against hope that they would make it through. But alas, as the winds buffeted and tore into the oak, which stood head and shoulders above everyone else, she took the full brunt of the force and had to capitulate, succumb to this mighty storm and fall with a crash to the ground. Oh, the tragedy, oh such great a loss of this majestic tree, what an enormous gap it left in the canopy, what destruction came upon it as it fell, with branches that had stood the test of time breaking and shattering in the fall, the leaves being ripped off and laid bare there she lay the once majestic landmark now destroyed and uprooted. What was her fate now that she could no longer produce the acorns to continue the cycle of life? What is left for her but to rot and return to the earth? 

And there came a man named Joseph, the son of Heli from the royal line of David and with him his Son. Together, they came to survey the damage to the forest that they had recently come into possession of which they tended. They were carpenters by trade and artisans of wood and were highly esteemed by the town where they lived and worked in Nazareth. Those towns around them recognised their craft, and their artistry was highly sought after for its quality. On the night that the storm hit, Joseph withdrew into his dwelling with his family and hunkered down to ride it out, knowing that much destruction was happening around them. Amid all the chaos, Joseph's thoughts were dominated by the thought of how his small forest was fairing in the storm and thought specifically about the large oak tree in the middle of all the other trees standing head and shoulders above them all, an impressive sight in all its glory and majesty. He hoped and prayed that this tree he had grown fond of would last the storm and come through unscathed, but he knew it would take the brunt of the wind and the power being unleashed by nature. He remembered how he had met the Oak tree all those years ago before Mary and all the children had come along and how even then it was an impressive site standing tall and strong in the sky and how much he had admired it and even grown to love it, to love its stability, its robustness, and its beauty. He enjoyed seeing it change from one season to another and how well it bore the fruits for the next generation of oak trees each year. He saw its purpose, loved its simplicity, and compared it to his own life with all its demands and complications. He remembered all the acorns he had gathered and planted in and around the forest, how they had faithfully germinated each year, and how they were growing well and taking shape. He knew what he had to do as soon as the storm had passed; he had to go and check on the forest and see what the storm had inflicted upon his trees. So, early in the morning, when he heard the wind dying down, he awoke his son, gathered his tools and made tracks towards the forest. In the dim light, it was evident that there was much destruction in the town, with debris littering the streets, walls fallen, roofs blown off, and personal belongings scattered everywhere. And his heart sank, for if this devastation was evident in the town, what would he find in his beloved forest? So, with that heaviness, they made their way towards the forest. Before them, the sight that he had dreaded, his beloved oak had been cast down, had fallen and lay crushed and smashed in a heap upon the ground. Joseph burst into tears; his worst fears had been realised, and there before him was the fallen giant, the object of his love dying before him. With his heart broken, he embraced his son, and they both wept at the destruction that they beheld. How the mighty had fallen, how the proud had been brought low and with such sadness they both experienced as they saw such greatness reduced to death. Then Joesph heard the quiet words of his son saying with such wisdom beyond his age, “This is not the end; this is just a new beginning”, and Joesph realised that there was purpose even in this destruction and that there is hope in a sudden change of circumstances that could be viewed as an opportunity instead of a setback. Then his Carpenter’s creative brain switched on, causing him to look at the possibilities before him instead of looking at the lost and started to see the possible gain before him. Then he knew what he must do and told his son, and they prepared for the task ahead. So, he called for his oxen and the cart that they pulled to come from the town and to the forest, and whilst they waited for it to arrive, they set about cutting the branches off and preparing the trunk to be harvested and carried to his workshop to be prepared. With expert care and a craftsman’s ability to know where best to cut and how to bring the best portions of the mighty oak, he expertly cut and chopped and showed his son where to work and what to do. And through the heat of the day, they worked, and with great effort, sweet and at times tears, they prepared the trunk for transportation. Once the great trunk was in position on the cart, they took the great oak, and to Joseph, it felt like a funeral procession of a much-loved relative. As he came into the town leading the oxen with his son beside him, people were turning out of their homes and looking in wonder at what they had retrieved, a sign of hope amid their devastation. The next day, Joseph and his son brought the trunk into their workshop, using their craftsman’s tools to cut it and fashion it into large beams that fit the palace. The smell of the timber as it was cut was sweet and laid heavy in the air, feeling as if there was still life in the tree's heart. Once the rough cuts were made and the trunk sectioned into long, impressive beams, it was time to rest from their work. Joseph sat with his family at the dinner table and told the story of the acorn as they ate and the younger children listened attentively, but his oldest son had a knowing look upon his face as if he had heard the story before and knew the journey of the acorn. In bed, he pondered what had happened since the storm and how, even though there was a great loss, he had benefitted from that and had a storeroom full of quality timber to sell on and provide for his family. He offered up his praise and thanksgiving to Jehovah, who provides. Before he drifted off to sleep, he asked for wisdom on how best to sell what they had both worked hard to obtain. As he slept, an angel of the Lord visited him in a dream and said to him that he was to go to Jerusalem and enquire of the priests in the Temple if they needed some of his timber to carry out repairs and to offer it to them as a sacrifice upon the Lord. As he awoke, he remembered the dream and prepared to travel to Jerusalem, taking his son with him and the beams on the cart. Coming into the city, they went up to the temple and offered half of the timbers to the priests, who took them from the cart. Joesph saw his son putting his hand upon the timbers and saying, “For the glory of God,” wiping a tear from his cheek. 

The beam sat in the temple's storeroom, waiting for a chance to be used. Years passed, and dust gathered, and no one came to use the beams, which were discarded, abandoned, and unused. 

Then, one day, a day of uproar in the city when the crowds were shouting, “Crucify him, crucify him.” The chief priests and the Sanhedrin were making their demands of the Romans to inflict punishment on a man who was 33 years old from the town of Nazareth. They demanded that they crucify a man called Jesus, the son of Joseph of that town and the Romans, agreeing to their demands, asked that the priests supply the material necessary to do their dirty work. Suddenly, the door of the wood store burst open, and workers gathered up the beams that had been left discarded and said to themselves that these would do for a cross. So, taking them to the soldiers, they handed over the beams that Joseph and his son had worked so hard to prepare and had given them into the hands of the priests to do with as they saw fit. And this majestic tree that once stood head and shoulders above all the trees of the forest was now to be used for the greatest crime that humanity could commit, to kill the very Son of God.  

And so, the timbers were brought to the Romans, handed over and the soldiers who prepared the tool of crucifixion by strapping the beams together to form a cross. And that moment came when the son of Joseph, the Son of God, was reunited with the tree that he had worked on, the tree that he had created was laid on his back. And as it came in contact with the Creator's shoulders and as He bore the weight of that cross, the Creator met his creation, and he knew this timber, its history, and its history before the foundation of time and spoke it into being. He had placed a part of himself into every atom of its existence; he was connected to it and felt at one with it. As his blood was mingled with the wood and soaked into the grain, an unseen connection became evident between the Creator and the created. Then, laying the beams on the rough ground, the full weight of the Son of God was laid upon the beams, and the cruel nail hammered into his flesh and through into the wood. Both became connected in this wicked act of hatred and lifted, mocking the tree that had once stood majestic in the forest of this world and the one who stood majestic in the courts of heaven, the Son of God.  With the experience shared, the wood and the Saviour, the creation and the Creator, one in this moment, both bearing the burden, one bearing the body of the King of Heaven and one the sins of the world, both carrying out the will of the Father here united in their last purpose on earth. As the blood trickled down the beams and fell to the ground, into that ground, fell another acorn that would also grow to be a mighty oak, an oak called the Kingdom of God, a story that never ends.