Father Sequoia

One early morning I felt a deep urge to go into the woods. It is hard to describe what caused it but a force drew me inescapably towards the familiar forest. The walk there proved little strenuous and the bright sunlight made up for the early morning chill. Closer and closer my feet brought me towards a clearing between the trees. With firm steps and no hesitation I entered the wood, which greeted me with the smell of a fresh morning rain. Only a few sprinkles had still fallen when I had left the house but even these and had quickly ceased.

As soon as I entered into the forest, I stepped into a whole different world. Time seemed to slow down in this very moment and the further into the forest I wondered the stranger the trees began to look. A sudden chill of fear crept into my heart but when I heard the voice of birds singing, all fear was pushed away or rather transformed into a sense of dread.

I knew not were I was going but my feet kept pushing onward to an unknown destination. Darker and darker the wood grew and soon I had lost all sense of time or direction. By now my eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and had no need of sunlight to see the path. While I was progressing further and further away from the known regions of the woods, a still, small voice inside whispered: Father Sequoia, ask for Father Sequoia.

Puzzled by the meaning of this advice I kept on treading the soft ground. Each one of my steps left a mark in the grass. Whether I was dreaming or the trees really moved closer to me, I could afterwards never tell, but I could swear I saw trees moving.

Suddenly something or someone approached me. In the dark it was hard to tell but when it had drawn near enough I recognized him as a little squirrel. For some reason I was attracted to the squirrel and when he noticed, it appeared as though he performed a little dance to draw even more of my attention. A weird idea welled up in my soul: "Maybe I should talk to the squirrel." At first I tried to brush the thought away but after all, this was a strange forest and no one would ever know anyways. And so I said:

“Brother Squirrel, do you know Father Sequoia by any chance?”

There was no response at first and the squirrel only looked funny at me. I knew it was a stupid idea, I thought when the suddenly the squirrel addressed me:

“How do I know that I can trust you?” He said in a stern voice, one would not expect from a squirrel.

I hesitated. "Should I answer? What was I getting my self into here?" But now there was no turning back, I could not back out of this adventure. So I responded:

“There is o way for you to know whether you can trust me, you must take the risk.”

The Squirrel nodded and proceeded: “Alright, I will lead you to Father Sequoia, for only his friends know him by this name.”
So my weird companion and I marched on ever deeper into the forest, we changed directions frequently and I guessed that the squirrel was still mistrusting me and led me through a labyrinth, where none was. After seemed like hours the squirrel suddenly stopped and whispered:

“Be quiet! We are in the heart of the forest and we don’t want to wake what lives her.”

Then I lost my footing and without any resistance fell to my knees. Now I no longer even felt a sense of dread by simple awe overcame me and knelling was the only appropriate response. Had the previous events seems strange, there were no words to express what ensued now. It was terrible and yet magnificent.

Only now I noticed the huge tree standing tall in front of me. He was larger and older than any of the other trees I had ever seen and while I was still pondering his majesty a roaring voice form inside the tree addressed me:

“Son of Adam, why have you come?”

With trembling in my voice I asked:
“Are you Father Sequoia?”

“That I am but the better question is: Why have you come here?”

When I did not answer he added:

“Don’t fret my child! Ask the question deep within in your soul Not all questions are equal, for this one is more royal than all others.”

I did not know how to respond. Asking a question seemed so wrong and yet his voice resounded so convincingly within my ear. So I asked the one question that had born within my soul ever since I had entered the dark wood. Before I could even finish my consideration the question broke forth from my mouth and I heard myself say:

“Where you here when our Savior was born?”

Immediately the whole forest fell silent as all the trees and animals waited for Father Sequoia’s response. Such a question had not been heard in those woods for a very long time, so long no one even remembered.

Father Sequoia paused for what seemed eternity. Finally he began to speak with a voice so firm yet soft, so quiet yet distinct, so noble yet so humble:

“My dear Child, you have asked wisely and I will tell you all to your heart’s content.”

I sat down and listened for the longest time.

“I was there long before our Savior was born but despite my age I still remember that day like yesterday. But before I tell you the story, you need to know some things leading up to that night. When the first couple fell, I was there; when the first brother was slain, I was there; I saw empires rise and fall, all the while I always stood tall in this forest. Ever since that day when sin had entered our world, our Creator had placed a desire into our hearts, the groan of all creation for a Savior. For many thousands of years I waited, while I saw all other trees felled or die of old age, nevertheless I was privileged to remain.
Then one night the groan grew so intense and I lifted my eyes up to heaven. There I saw a star and I knew that the fulfillment of all our desires had come. All of my being rejoiced, my roots danced, my stomp and boughs roared with joy. Our Savior had been born! Oh, how we had longed for this moment and now finally we saw its fulfillment, our redemption was near. All the trees around the world resounded with praise for the newborn king. Many of my old fellows died that night after having seen their groan expressed and their hope fulfilled. But for me it was not yet time to die, I had much more to suffer still.”

In that moment another voice spoke up shyly and at first I did not know where it came from but as I looked closer I saw it coming from a little raindrop in one of Father Sequoia’s leaves. She said:

“And then and then the incredible happened. Many thousands of times had I risen into the atmosphere and fallen to the ground as rain again but never had I seen someone walk on water. Yet my Master walked on me on that lake in Galilee. Even more he calmed the storm when all hope seemed lost for his disciples. I, the little drop, have touched the King of all the Universe.”

When she had finished the grass under my feet began to talk as well:

“My great, great, great … granduncle grew on a the hills outside of Jerusalem, a place called Golgotha. Ever since, the story has been passed on in our family of how the master’s feet trod upon one of us, how this instance has crowned us.”

All the forest grew silent again as they all waited for the continuation of the story. They had listened intently to the unfolding of the story and some of the older trees had murmured in agreement. At last Father Sequoia spoke again:

“Much grief befell all of us when my brother’s wood was used to form the cross of our King. What pain? What outrage? How could the King of Glory die? Had we all hoped in vain when he breathed his last? Was our redemption only a fantasy? How could they crucify our Redeemer—nature’s call and creation’s groan?
The trees and the plants, all birds and beasts hung their head in grief and nature was silent for three whole days. But then the rocks cried out: 'He is risen—risen indeed!' At first we did not believe them, after all they are only rocks but then we saw it ourselves. Death was defeated and the Curse broken. Redemption had come and slavery ended for men as well as nature. Never before had creation rejoiced in such violent fashion, the roar resounded throughout the universe.
Ever since I have waited here to tell my story but no one ever seemed to care. At first people visited and asked questions but after a while people stopped coming at all and the forest fell silent and sad because we could not tell the story of Creation’s redeemer.”

The old tree fell silent and I could see that he was visible moved by the retelling of his story. Brother Squirrel came up to me and tugged my sleeve.

“It is time to leave, Father Sequoia is tired and his end is drawing near. Seven thousand years have left a mark on him. Now it is up to you to tell his story.”

Without further words he led me out of the wood and when I left the forest, I looked up and I saw the star.