One truth about God that has always captured my imagination is how He uses creation to minister to creation itself. Psalm 104 is a rich testimony to this truth. So when I read about how Abraham settled by the trees at Mamre (in Genesis 13-19) it made me wonder how the Lord ministered to him in the setting of this majestic oak grove. The poem below is my take on how that might have looked from Abraham’s vantage point. Are there other accounts in scripture which have inspired you to consider how the Lord ministered to His image bearers through His own creation in biblical times, and how he continues to do so to this day?
By the Trees at Mamre
Lot chose east so I took west
And as he left to take the best
My dejected gaze fell to the ground
Just an old man, with no family to be found
But then you lifted up my head
To look as far as the horizon spread
Towards a promise that was bigger than I could dream
So we pitched our tent by the trees at Mamre
Those great trees became my education
Of the God who ministers through His own creation
Larger than life, with years beyond me
Yours to plant, to water, to grow, to be
And as we tarried by those ancient oaks
You could hear them whisper a story that spoke
Of the strength that only You can build
Through decades of a lifetime filled
It was there you challenged me to try
To count my descendants in the midnight sky
Your promise extends farther than I can see
That’s what I learned, by the trees at Mamre
Under those branches I learned the mystery
That the one who forms the sky and sea
Isn’t asking me to run or strive
But to walk with Him, and in faith abide
And when I’m battered by life’s gusts
You produce a fruit that only grows through trust
Your roots reach deeper than all my needs
That’s what I learned, by the trees at Mamre
The time you visited, I won’t forget the day
Sara laughed as she heard you say…
In a year she’d give birth to a son
Just when we thought our lives were done
But since you’re sovereign over all creation
Nothing’s beyond the grasp of your redemption
And rather than drown us in the judgement we deserve
You grant both our rescue and the purpose we serve
So when the number of my days is reached
Your promise passed, your grace bequeathed
My soul will gladly hide in Thee
But let these bones rest, by the trees at Mamre