Awesome Tree Stump

Very little sunlight penetrated the thick canopy of old, dense tree growth, and where I walked was chilly and dark, despite the sunny day. Years of decaying leaves carpeted the forest floor, silencing my footfalls. I was deep in the woods in an area new to me in Butler Sanctuary. The 350 acres of field and woods, just over an old stonewall from my family’s ten wooded acres, were a sanctuary for me, a shy, hurting, often frightened child. But this area seemed different. I often wandered freely in the Sanctuary through fields and over hills and rock outcroppings, not following any trails, and somehow this day, I had found my way to a new, darker region.

As I walked, it seemed the silence grew palpably deeper, and I began to feel oddly frightened for no reason I could discern. I kept on with a strange sensation of anticipation and fear, climbing over decaying trees that had fallen long enough before that the canopies of neighboring trees had closed in overhead, blocking all sunlight.

Suddenly I found myself on the edge of a small clearing formed where a huge tree had broken. It appeared to have been struck by lightning and had shattered about fifteen feet up, leaving a tall, jagged piece of stump pointing straight up. A strong shaft of light shone through the opening created by the falling of the tree, shining brilliantly on the stump and the ground beside it.

I stopped, overwhelmed with awe and terror. I looked up at the light shining on the jagged stump, then turned and ran, jumping over rocks and crashing through shrubs until I was back in familiar territory. Even then I kept running.

What was the dark silence of the woods all around the clearing? At the time I wondered if there was some evil present. Later, I wondered if the light on the stump was revealing something of God’s holiness to me, a child who knew little of God. Now I wonder if both were true—God’s holiness shining strong and bright in the midst of darkness. Whatever it was, it evoked an awe that has never left me.