If a Palm Tree could Talk

My real name is arecaceae, but most people call me palm. I love warm weather and sandy beaches so I grow best in the tropics or near a coastline. Many people only notice me when they vacation in Florida or California. Because I am an icon for travelers, I get my photograph taken a lot--mainly for postcards. These pictures give the illusion that I live in paradise but that’s only part of my story.

My family is 80 million years old—older than the human race! Because I have been around for so long, my family tree is larger than the average hardwood’s. I have thousands of cousins all over the world. From the beginning, I was recognized as symbolic. People saw my branches as a sign of victory. That’s why my branches were given as a sort of trophy to ancient Romans who won battles and competitions. The writers of Scripture knew me well. They rested at my feet after a long journey in the day’s heat and I gave them shade. They satisfied their hunger with my fruits. Because my trunk stood strong and tall amidst the forces of nature, they likened me to persons who were honest and good: “The just shall flourish like the palm tree, shall grow like a cedar of Lebanon” (Psalm 92:12). This is one of the 30 times I am mentioned in the Bible. My most familiar Scripture story is the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. My branches were cut and strewn along the road as a welcome mat. They were also held high in the hands of believers to greet the Christ with festive joy. That was a great day but I knew that day was only part of the story of Jesus.

I had known Jesus since he was a child. He too rested in my shade and ate my fruits. Jesus was a giver. He gave of himself to others until it finally killed him. Like Jesus, I too know what it means to give for the sake of others. I endure the pain of stripping and carving and cutting and burning and of having others draw out my sap. I know the pain is only temporary. Once the pain is past, I become something new: baskets and furniture and food and oil and wine. When this happens, I get a new name, a new identity, a new purpose and I live on in ways new and unimaginable. That’s why I am overjoyed to be held in your hands this weekend, to be sprinkled with holy water, to be shaped into a cross or to be wrapped around the cross that hangs in your home. May I be for you a symbol of the victory of grace over sin, a symbol of goodness and truth and self-giving, that you may be strengthened to write the rest of your story.