An Easter tribute to the mesquite

My morning reading for this Easter day included a passage from Psalm 118, a psalm of great victory that is rich in content on so many levels.  However, one sentence really jumped out at me:

I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord.

Yesterday as I walked through the neighborhood, I passed a row of empty lots that may never be occupied due to their steep grade.  Erosion has carved little arroyos down the hill, and a surprising variety of flowering plants have clawed their way out of the red and rocky soil.

The star of the show to me, though, was the lowly mesquite (don't laugh - stick with me!). 

The hillside was dotted with seedlings of various sizes, which wasn't a surprise to me.  For those of you who aren't from west Texas, mesquite trees are everywhere here.  In town, some older mesquites have been trimmed to become part of the urban landscape; the farther you go from the city, the more densely you will find them.  They are the bane of farmers and ranchers because they are almost impossible to kill.  This is for a variety of reasons.  Apparently they have enormously long taproots (the record for the longest taproot is 190 feet!) and survive when many other larger trees die during drought.  Their regeneration zone goes down over six inches below ground level, and if even a sliver of root is left, they will grow back.  Add the multitude of seeds per pod and, well, that means a lot of mesquites.

This morning as we celebrated the resurrection with our brothers and sisters at Minter Lane, the pulpit was surrounded by Easter lilies.  Now, I don't want to get picky, but that's not what I would call an indigenous plant around here.  Beautiful, yes - local, no.  Those flowers are pampered and petted up in the Pacific northwest, the land of rain and coolness, and imported to growers here just in time to bloom for Easter.

I understand that there have been years of tradition connecting the pure, white blooms of the lily to Jesus, Mary, and the resurrection.  But I would like to make the case for the mesquite as a beautiful symbol for Christ's resurrection day:

Rejected by men

Marred in form

Covered in thorns

Cut down, dug out, burned to the ground

And yet - in spite of everything -

Lives on!

Its roots go deep down to the source of life 

Its seeds provide food and multiply that life

Its wood warms and flavors and gives structure and stability

So, the next time you see a mesquite and all of its seedling children, you might just imagine it shouting out with Jesus, "I shall not die but live!" Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia.