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A few hours had gone since Moses
had descended from the mount. Through his thoughts turned over and over
the pattern God showed him of a tabernacle as he had never seen before.
This was kept in the depth of the retina of his eyes.
The Lord’s words were reverberating in his being like an order. “Tell to
my people: bring offering from each man whose heart prompts him to give,
gold, silver, bronze, blue, purple, scarlet yarn, fine linen, goat hair,
ram skins dyed red, hides of sea cows, olive oil for the light, spices
for the anointing oil and for the fragrant incense, onyx stones and
others gems to be mounted on the ephod and breast piece and acacia wood
and you will make a sanctuary for me”.
“You will make an ark too, you will make an ark too, you will make an
ark too!”
- For that they had to obtain wood and that one had to be acacia wood!
“Wood covered in gold?” Moses asked himself. What an idea from God,
something so perishable covered in something imperishable.
Wood was something scarce in the desert where trees can not grow, but
they had to make the Ark!
Wood talks of the man’s nature, it is something indestructible as if you
put it under ground or it is kept in contact with water it starts to
rot.
Well, but as you know, every tree did not born being a tree. First, it
was seed, a certain seed “according to its kind” is the one that falls
in a fertile land and be a little plant to grow until it reaches the
high of a tree.
You know, the acacia tree is not at all attractive. It has got neither
gracefulness, nor fineness. Therefore, the arrogance is far away from
it. So it can not be compare with a cedar from the Lebanon that would
ornate the Temple of the Great Solomon, it has neither the delicious of
a tree that can bear a sweet fruit. Moreover, it is warp; the only thing
that can attract your attention, according to its kind, is the fact that
it has got some white flowers. The acacia that was used for the Ark’s
construction has the particularity that grows in the desert.
How many leafy trees grow in the shores of the Egypt Nile! But this
acacia tree grows there in the desert.
At the same time this tree was growing another trees were growing in
different parts of the world with the same sunshine that gave them life
and were irrigated by the rains of the sky. But I tell you this again,
this kind of acacia tree, the dictionaries say, grows in the Orient
desert.
This tree saw how other trees grew with him. How others came to life and
grew. They were covered with the same sunshine every morning, received
the dew of the night and a sporadic rain over their lives.
If something could be remark in the acacia’s life was the routine.
Wherever he looked, he just found desert or another similar tree. Shrubs
with thorns and sand that punished his nature with the winds. After all
what can be find in a desert?
Nobody looked at him. He was distant from men sights. Maybe some nomadic
caravan that passed over there or somebody who was lost looked for his
shadow from time to time. Maybe some dove that nested in the corrals of
the mountains stayed there looking for a place to rest of its flight for
a short time.
But a certain day, late in the afternoon, a man, a man as this pour tree
had never seen before appeared over there. This figure was handsome in
great way; a brilliance illuminated all his being. He did not look as
any other men this acacia had seen during his life in the desert.
Staring at his figure, he saw him going around the whole place as if he
was looking for something special. It seemed that his eyes could
penetrate even the hardest rock and discern the most intimate thoughts
of each thing that surrounded him; and the thing that most took the
acacia tree’s attention was that everything come to life around him.
This special man looked for each tree with due diligence. His steps were
firm and his walk slow. Until the tree saw he was coming directly to him
stopping in front of his warped figure of tree. He felt how the warmth
of his eyes went into the depths of his being and as if he did not take
care of his external figure his look reached his roots. After a while he
left.
A few days passed and once again the figure of that strange visitor
strolled among the trees that lived in that place. Once again his look
went through each place, form and figure. Once again he stopped in front
of this warped acacia tree, and his look, his deep look penetrated one
more time to the most intimate place of the acacia’s life. The visits
turned more frequent. He noticed that each time this special being
stayed in front of him, his nature of tree began to shake and the sap of
life run faster.
A certain day the graceful man came straight to him ignoring the others.
He put his hands on his trunk touching him and a delicate smile appeared
on his face.
What a beautiful moment, ¡it was not a touch, it was like a caress! He
would like that hand would remain there for ever.
The tree thought: “what have I got in difference from so many other
trees?”. He had heard the nomads saying that in different parts of the
world there were big trees, almost sublimes with delicious fruits,
magnificent flowers with a pleasant perfume, but he was a warped tree,
what had he seen in him? This acacia just received everyday the heat and
winds from the desert that made the sand punished his figure.
When the handsome man took his hands off him, he could see they were
wounded hands. The stranger at all was that from those wounds the tree
felt the delicate touch that made his being shake.
He thought: “pour man, he may have been injured at work!”. The acacia
knew that men worked and had occupations.
But which one would be his job? He did not know but if he had to guess
he would say: this man is… a carpenter!
A few days passed, more than usually, until this man came again. He saw
him walking straight to him with a big smile across his face. It seemed
that his lips were moving and he listened the whisper of this words:
“the time has come”.
He brought something in his right hand. He did not know what it was but
it blandish in the sunshine. He lifted his hand being a short distance
and the tree thought: “his hand again! that delicate hand will touch me
, his hand will touch me again!”.
“What a great honour that somebody so greater than me, more beautiful
than me, with more power and glory, touch me. What am I to be more of
all the other trees? I am not straight, I am not beautiful, but this man
that can move from one side to another with a will of iron has looked at
me; he has looked at me and has touched me too!”.
He had had so many visits that a silent relationship between the tree
and the handsome man with injured hands had already started.
When the man’s hand was lifted and fell over the tree, the thing that
seemed to be so svelte when the sunshine made it shine with sparkling
colours was approaching faster and the tree thought: “he will touch me,
he will touch me, as he touched me with his hand! It must be something
even more precious, it must be something more beautiful, it must be
something as I have never felt before! If his hand’s touch was something
so beautiful that I felt a sweetness, a love as no bird could give me,
what it would be when it touches me!
The knock of the axe and the scream of the tree were one.
What a pain… tremendous pain, inexplicable pain… what happened…?
The amazement and the pain did not let him to realised how many knocks
were. The tree could only say: stop… not me… there are other trees…
there are other trees! Why me!
The axe went very deep to the most intimate of his being. The acacia
could not believed that this delicate man with a nice smile, that knew
about injuries, could have caused this. But he could do nothing, he was
on the ground. Everything had gone so fast. Every link to this land had
been cut down and he was taken to a place he did not know.
The other trees that saw him passed through said between them: “look
what has happened to him because he trusted in this stranger. At least
it was not us. At least he did not stop in front of us!”. They did not
understand.
But their words were useless. The pain was very deep, the acacia was not
anymore a tree, at least straight. Even though he still had a little
breath of life he knew he would die soon. However, even when he was cut
down he still had the shape of a tree.
He was taken away from all the others trees and was taken to the camp of
the man of beautiful figure. He stayed alone in the night of his life.
His figure was laying on the sand of the desert while the dew fell over
it.
The following day other woodcutters with different tools began to do
their job. His bark was separated, his more intimate part was
discovered. Meanwhile, the man of great glory followed with attention
the details, each cut and everything they were doing in him.
Once he was without bark, with his more tender part exposed, he laid in
the hotness of the winds that had prepared his nature of wood.
If his friends had looked at him without his bark in sight they would
never recognized him again. Day by day, night by night, the days passed
on.
He was very sensitive to any whistle of the wind without his bark. He
was sensitive to any whisper.
Another workers came and brought with them saws and sandpapers that cut
his inside nature. Why they had to cut finer! Why they had to sandpaper
finer! When the workers finished he was already divided and nobody else
would say he was a tree. All the growth of tree he had had was now lost.
Now he was only left to 1.20 m wide and 0.70 m high. Planks only planks.
Then he listened: it is finished!. After that the assemblers came and
put each plank of his being in its place to build up a new figure. But
he did not look anymore like a tree. Nobody would recognized him as one,
who would say he was a tree!
The following day some men came and took him to a really hot place. What
took his attention was that during the whole process the presence of
that glorious man that contemplated everything made on him was never an
absence. He never let the workers to forget any detail.
The tree began to feel hot, the acacia began to feel too much hot, layer
upon layer of gold fell over him.
Two natural things were in contact: gold and wood.
Those layers that were prepared beforehand, that firstly covered the
inside part, made the remaining acacia wood disappeared.
The foreigners would never recognized him from outside. Nobody else
would see his wood. He listened a voice that said it was finished, it
was completed, but he did not understand too much.
Once he was in the middle of the darkness of his senses he understood
that from that moment on he could only see the external world through
the nature that covered him.
He felt how inside and upon him they put another top that covered him
even more in a thick darkness. He understood that all this things had
happened to him for the simple and great fact that this glorious man
fixed his eyes on him, choosing him.
In fact he was taken to a place he was not asked if he wanted to go. He
was taken to a place he did not know. He was taken to a place he did not
want to be.
While he thought in that the place was filled with a light as he had
never seen before during his life of tree. That light did not bright
like the sunshine as the acacia had seen every morning of his life. This
was a different light, a precious light, it was a tremendous glory as he
had never seen in the Earth! And he thought in his friends, the trees.
He understood, now he understand…! He had lost his identity but he had
been chosen for a purpose.
Friends, like this acacia tree, lots of seed were sowed in this world.
When they grew they did not have any beautifulness but one day a
different Being like there is no other passed, that choose that tree in
the middle of a desert to prepare him for a special purpose.
This tree had to lost its identity, if had to passed through different
test, through different pains, lost “his life”.
I tell you more, the one that looked the God’s Ark and did not know,
could never tell that inside there was a tree.
The only thing the foreigners, the unknown and the known, the people and
the enemies looked at when the ark was moved, was the Ark where the
presence of God rested, the Ark of the presence of God. Only those who
had passed this process, that belong to this people know that inside
that covered of gold there is a vase of wood.
He made us to be dwelling of His presence. It does not matter your
appearance. If he had chosen you He will prepared you.
The first looked at this tree was terrible, it did not distinguish from
any other tree, but there is a song we sing that says: “I was born to be
dwelling of God, the place of the presence of the Lord”.
Do not say I am just a simple tree, from a nature that dies.
The privilege of being a simple acacia tree is big!
I want to tell you something what God will put as a top, what will put
inside you is His law of love, and it is his gold. The top, the covering
of that box did not have acacia, it was pure gold. That pure gold speaks
of the nature of our lover saviour, he suffered more fire for his purity
than what you could suffer to be prepared like an ark. You have been
called to be dwelling of God. It is not a game, it is not a religion, it
is not a liturgy, it is not only go to the services. Your life belongs
to the one who sow you and gave your life.
Do not feel frustrated because of his acts, He is preparing you to be
His dwelling. Let Him to use His tools. And may you say: Lord be your
will, not mine.
God bless you, acacia tree, the Lord is with you!
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