deeper thoughts: The Mango Tree at the Lake

Jeremiah 17:7-8: Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when the [storm] comes; its leaves are always green…it never fails to bear fruit.


The air was heavy with the weight of humidity. From the balcony I looked out over Lake Bosomtwe, but could not see the other side because of the thick haze.

There was an eerie stillness. The heat made everything stagnant. The gray water had no movement; it looked like ice. Birds sat silently on lifeless logs. They walked a bit every now and then, but they didn’t fly.

There was a tall mango tree that towered above the other smaller trees along the edge of the lake. The sturdy trunk was slender and smooth all the way to the top, where its branches opened like an umbrella and covered a cluster of half a dozen round mangos.

I noticed the branches. Some were a living green. Others were a dying brown, but still hanging onto the tree like weights. The tree looked so cumbersome and burdened. I too have felt like that way, I thought, weighed down with extra burdens and thoughts and anxieties. I stared at the tree and inwardly groaned for relief.

Yet nothing moved. And in the silence I sensed a moan rising from the earth.

Something shifted in the air.

There was a slight rustle and then a breeze. It came quickly, without much warning. The sky’s haze formed dark clouds. Rough winds picked up speed and thunder roared, like a voice announcing the storm’s presence. The clouds hung poised and they bulged until they finally burst and forceful raindrops fell.

The pounding rhythm of water hitting water echoed in my mind as I stood and watched the lake’s surroundings come alive. Boisterous rain, wind, and thunder swirled together and with delightful power brought earth’s response. Everything once motionless was moving. It was as if God Himself reached down and churned the lake with His fingers. The shifting water was dappled with white-crested waves that spilled out onto the bank’s rocks. Birds soared in the wind and screamed warnings to find shelter.

My eyes turned to the mango tree. Its trunk bent under the wind’s pressure, but it didn’t break, and I imagined its roots digging deeper to clutch soil and keep a strong anchor. I gripped the balcony’s railing as wind blew my hair and rain painted my face.

And then it was over.

It left as quickly as it came. The sky was left cloudless, swept clean by the wind. Things were still again, but no longer stagnant. I breathed deeply; the air was light. For the first time, I could see the other side of the lake. Beautiful mountains guarded the opposite side.

Then I surveyed the shore. The storm left things changed: uprooted plants and small trees scattered the grassy bank. Logs once locked to the shore now drifted in the rippling water. But the mango tree was still rooted, now in its original upright position. Like everything else, it looked much cleaner, but it somehow seemed to stand taller than before.

Then I noticed several of its branches lying on the ground. The storm had pulled off the brown limbs, leaving only the green ones fastened to the tree. I looked for the fruit; every piece was still clustered in a group at the top of the trunk; none had fallen to the ground.

I smiled. I was proud that tree. Though the storm had been hard and the winds tempted it to uproot and let go, it stayed planted. And now all the decay was stripped away; leaving the tree pruned and strong, ready to produce more fruit.

Then a Quiet Voice startled me, See how the storms take the burdens away? See how I allow trials to bring refinement? All you have to do is hold on. Trust me and remain in me. See how it’s worth it?I gazed at the tree. Its clean branches rustled with the breeze and raindrops on leaves sparkled in the sunlight. My eyes filled with tears. Yes, Lord, I whispered. Oh, how it’s worth it!