Trees in the Desert

“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.”
Audre Lorde

“Diversity: the art of thinking independently together.”
Malcolm Forbes

“Our diversity is our strength. What a dull and pointless life it would be if everyone was the same.”
Angelina Jolie

“Peace is not unity in similarity but unity in diversity, in the comparison and conciliation of differences.”
Mikhail Gorbachev

“Unity, not uniformity, must be our aim. We attain unity only through variety.”
Mary Parker Follett

“The greater the diversity, the greater the perfection.”
Thomas Berry

Isaiah is not casual and he does not scatter words. When he speaks, his words cut. They carve through stone and leave the mark of God’s hand. Chapter 41 opens like a trial and the nations are summoned. The Judge is already seated and the idols are called. “Tell us the future. Declare what is to come.” But they cannot. They do not speak. They have no voice, no breath, no power. Their worshipers hold onto silence and into that silence the LORD answers. He does not hesitate. He does not weigh His words. He speaks as the One who made heaven and earth, the One who called Abraham, and the One who keeps covenant. The nations have nothing to say and the idols stand mute. The scene shifts. No longer a courtroom, but a wilderness. And in that wilderness the LORD says: “I will put in the wilderness the cedar, the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive. I will set in the desert the cypress, the plane and the pine together, that they may see and know, may consider and understand together, that the hand of the LORD has done this” (Isaiah 41:19–20, ESV). The barren place becomes His stage. Not a single hardy bush clinging to life, but a grove planted by His hand. The silence of idols is broken by the witness of creation, and in the desert grove planted by the hand of God we see not only a promise of provision, but a testimony, a witness set before the eyes of the nations: that they may see and know.

The Barren Place and the Hand of God
The wilderness is not neutral. In Scripture it is hunger, thirst, danger, but also dependence. Israel learned this with sand in their teeth. Forty years of dust, with manna and quail that fell from the sky and water struck from rock. Nothing to claim as their own. Everything received. “Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD” (Deuteronomy 8:3). The wilderness is a place that strips—a place that kills idols and self-reliance. Isaiah speaks to a people who knew barrenness again. Exiles in Babylon, surrounded by nations that looked strong, their temples bright with gold, their idols lifted high while Israel looked wasted. Empty. Forgotten. But in that barren place God promised something no idol could ever give. Not survival, not a token, but a forest. The choice of trees is deliberate. Cedar—strength, majesty, the wood of palaces. Acacia—the wood of the ark and the altar. Myrtle—fragrant, used in feasts, the symbol of joy. Olive—oil for lamps, for anointing, for healing. Cypress and pine—green when everything else dies. Plane—broad and sheltering. Each tree chosen with intent. Together they do not speak of scraps or bare survival, they speak of abundance, permanence, life where life should not be. Man would plant a little, but God plants much. Man rations, but God overflows. The wilderness is not dressed up for show, it is filled with a forest that should not exist together in a place so barren that no one can deny Who has done it. The nations will see it, and they will reckon with it. “That they may see and know, may consider and understand together, that the hand of the LORD has done this” (Isaiah 41:20, ESV).

Variety is a Testimony
The key is in this: Not one kind of tree. Not one kind of shape. Not one kind of leaf. Cedar and olive, acacia and myrtle, pine, plane, and cypress; all in the same wasteland. Not by chance, not by adaptation, not by survival, but only by the hand of God. Only by His ordaining. Only by His planting. The wilderness does not shape this. It cannot, because although it endures, it starves in its barrenness, and yet, the grove grows. The grove is not merely a metaphor, the grove is a mirror. God does not call His people to sameness. He calls them to Christlikeness. One body, many members (1 Corinthians 12:12–27), variety of gifts, callings, service, personality—each distinct. Some towering and bold, standing tall in strength and visibility, with unwavering confidence and natural leadership, like the cedar. Others are not towering, not loud, but quietly fragrant with joy, restorative peace, and gentleness like the myrtle. Some endure harsh conditions, weathering trials without decay, resourceful and resilient, like the acacia. Others are fruitful, pouring out blessing and nurturing others with faithfulness and grace like the olive. Some are steady, upright, enduring across seasons, with steadfast strength and purity, like the pine. Others offer wide shelter and gentle respite, their presence steady and sustaining, providing comfort and protection like the plane. Not one tone, not one shape, not one flavor, not one flattened, and not one erased. Christlikeness is not personality-erasure, it is sin-erasure. Sanctification of each vessel until the glory of Christ shines in a hundred different ways. Holiness is not uniformity. Holiness is harmony, it is weight (Isaiah 6:3; ָכָּבוֹד | kabod means glory or weight), it is obedience (1 Peter 1:14-16, Romans 12:1-2). Holiness is the hand of the LORD shaping wood and spirit alike (Isaiah 64:8, Jeremiah 18:6). Holiness is not theory, it is not a suggestion, and it is not abstraction. Holiness is the assignment (Leviticus 11:44-45, 1 Peter 1:16, 1 Thessalonians 4:3).

One Spirit, Many Members
When Paul writes to the Corinthian church, he addresses a people tempted to elevate certain spiritual expressions above others. Some seemed to believe that to be “spiritual” meant to be dramatic, public, and vocal in their gifts. Others perhaps thought that the quieter, unseen roles carried less value. But the Spirit inspired Paul to pen words that shatter the idol of sameness: “Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone” (1 Corinthians 12:4–6, ESV). The variety itself is not a problem to solve, it is the Spirit’s design. Paul goes on to say that the body does not consist of one member but many, and that each is indispensable (1 Corinthians 12:14–22). The foot must not try to be the hand, and the ear must not try to be the eye. Diversity of function, perspective, and personality is not merely permissible, it is essential for the body to live and move as God intended. Notice that Paul is not just talking about talents or skills here. The imagery of the body speaks to more than task assignment; it points to how believers exist together in relationship. The hand interacts with the world differently than the eye does. The ear receives in a way the foot never will. And yet each part is equally under the head, Christ, and equally part of His body.

The Misinterpretation of Christlikeness
Some believers confuse Christlikeness with a particular cultural personality ideal. They imagine that to be like Christ, one must be perpetually soft-spoken, or perpetually outspoken; perpetually smiling, or perpetually solemn. But the Gospels present Christ in fullness, and His interactions defy any narrow personality category. At times He speaks tenderly, as when He calls the weary to come and find rest (Matthew 11:28–30). At other times, His words cut with unflinching sharpness, as when He rebukes the Pharisees (Matthew 23). He is gentle enough to welcome little children (Mark 10:14–16), yet fierce enough to overturn the tables of those who defiled His Father’s house (John 2:13–17). He withdraws to pray in solitude (Luke 5:16) and also joins in public feasts (John 2:1–11). If the Son of God Himself embodied such a breadth of expression without sin, then clearly holiness does not erase distinctiveness. We are not clones. Christlikeness is not about erasing one’s God-given temperament, but about bringing every part of it under the rule of the Spirit.

Living as a Testimony
The church stands where life should not. Where barrenness rules and where the wilderness claims dominion. Together, cedar and myrtle, olive and cypress, plane and pine declare: this is not us. This is God. Human skill cannot explain it. Culture cannot manufacture it, and idols cannot mimic it. The hand of the LORD has done this. This is why division is such an affront to God, and why division is no small thing; it is vandalism of the grove God planted. If we tear cedar from myrtle, or olive from cypress, you no longer have a planting, you have fragments. Fragments cataloged. Fragments explained. But a planting? A planting testifies. A planting holds. A planting declares God. Rooted in Christ, the church holds and the variety created in and through God is not scattered or blended or erased, but held together by Him. The planting breathes with many voices and stands against the wilderness. The desert cannot supply life. The grove is unity in diversity and abundance where none should exist. The hand of the LORD has done this.

Christ, the Grove-Maker
In Revelation we see “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Revelation 7:9, ESV). The unity of this multitude does not come from uniformity of culture, tone, or personality. Jesus makes the grove, not in figure, not in symbol, but in reality. He breaks wilderness, makes streams in scorched ground, brings fruit where no root should hold. He names Himself “the true vine” (John 15:1), and He calls the thirsty to “come to me and drink” (John 7:37). Rivers flow from the heart that believes (John 7:38). Rivers, not drips. Enough to drown the desert. It is the five loaves that feed the five thousand (Matthew 14:17–21, Mark 6:38–44, Luke 9:13–17, John 6:9–13). The empty nets cast out and full to breaking (Luke 5:4–7, John 21:6). Isaiah’s grove belongs to Him and Revelation answers Isaiah with a river from the throne. Twelve fruits, one for each month, and leaves for healing of the nations (Revelation 22:2). No longer a desert, but the wilderness undone. His Spirit and His fruit, one root, one vine, one Christ. A church planted in the wasteland, but not only one variety of tree multiplied. It is diversity planted in one grove, all with one testimony: “The Holy One of Israel has created it” (Isaiah 41:20). If we take this truth seriously, the implications for the Church are profound:

• We will stop trying to make people into our own image and start encouraging them to walk faithfully in the way God has made them.
• We will learn to appreciate expressions of godliness that do not mirror our own.

• We will repent where we have elevated personality preference over biblical principle.
• We will cultivate a culture where the tender encourager and the bold confronter are equally
  valued, because both are needed.
• We will recognize that the unity of the Spirit thrives not by removing differences, but by
  redeeming and refining them.
• We will bear witness to a fellowship that cannot be explained by preference or affinity, but only
  by Christ.

All of this circles back to the unmistakable mark of true discipleship—not sameness, but love. Jesus said, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35, ESV).

Dear reader, the temptation toward uniformity often masquerades as a desire for “peace” or “unity” or “maturity” or “order.” But Jesus did not call us to the ease of sameness, He called us to a love that labors in understanding. Romans 15:5–7 captures this call beautifully: “May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God” (ESV). Even in the barren wilderness, which is not some distant place. It is here, it is now, but it is not a place where nothing grows. No, it is abundance, variety, and permanence. It is His work, not one that limps, not one worked in half measures, because when God acts, the desert is remade. Yet, the question remains: when the grove grows, when streams carve the sand, when fruit weighs down branches once dead—do you see Him? Or do you stop at the trees? Abundance is not the point but abundance points to the goal: “That they may see and know, may consider and understand together” (Isaiah 41:20). The trees will fade, but the testimony will not. So, do not settle for a glance at the leaves. Do not admire the planting while ignoring the Planter. Stand where nothing should grow. Speak where hope seems silent. Let your heart, once dry, bear the fruit He has fashioned. Let your desert witness Him, and let the life around you testify: the hand of the LORD has done this.