The Tree of Life Restored

A Taste of Eden 

Fulfilled Hope

Scripture Focus:

“On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.” — Revelation 22:2

The image of the tree of life bookends the Bible—from Genesis to Revelation. In Genesis 2:9, the tree of life stood at the center of Eden, a symbol of eternal life and unbroken communion with God. But after the fall, access to that tree was barred (Genesis 3:24), representing the fracture of relationship and the onset of death, sorrow, and separation.

Yet Scripture does not leave us in that place of exile. The closing chapters of Revelation reveal a breathtaking promise: the tree of life appears again—this time at the center of the New Jerusalem, its leaves bringing healing to the nations. God’s plan has always been restoration. Fulfilled hope, in Christ, becomes not just relief, but renewal—a return to intimacy, abundance, and joy.

As Tim Keller writes, “The Bible begins in a garden with a tree and ends in a city with a tree. The story is about how we lost the tree and how God brings us back.”

The tree of life is not just a future hope—it is a present grace. Through Jesus, the Tree of Life is already blossoming in our hearts. “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit” (John 15:5). This is the flourishing of fulfilled hope.

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for the promise of restoration through the tree of life. Help me abide in Christ, that I might bear fruit even now. May my life be a reflection of the joy, healing, and hope You bring—a living branch of Your eternal tree. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Living Hope and the World to Come

When John wrote the book of Revelation, he wasn’t giving the church a codebook to decipher or an abstract puzzle to solve. He was giving hope—living hope—to people who were suffering, persecuted, and tempted to despair.

In Revelation 21–22, John unveils a breathtaking vision of where the story of redemption is headed: not an escape from the world, but the renewal of all things. He sees “a new heaven and a new earth” (Rev. 21:1) and the holy city, the New Jerusalem, descending from God. The city shines with God’s glory, and unlike earthly cities, there is no temple—because God Himself and the Lamb are its temple (21:22).

This vision is rooted in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Paul calls Him the firstfruits from the dead (1 Cor. 15:20). Just as the first sheaf of grain signals the full harvest to come, Christ’s resurrection is the beginning of new creation—a foretaste of the day when all things will be made new.

In Revelation 22, the tree of life reappears—once barred in Eden, now accessible again. It bears twelve kinds of fruit, yielding every month, and its leaves bring healing to the nations. This is not poetic fancy—it is God’s promise to a broken, bleeding world.

What does it mean for us today?

• We have a living hope, not just a vague optimism, but a certain future anchored in Christ’s victory.
  
  
• We are part of a bigger story—one that ends not in ruin but in restoration.
  
  
• We are called to live faithfully now, knowing the final chapter has already been written.
  
  

The Spirit carried John “in the Spirit” to see these things—not to speculate, but to strengthen. The same Spirit carries us today, reminding us that Jesus is on the throne, that evil will not have the last word, and that every tear will be wiped away.

So we wait. We witness. We worship. And we live with hope—not a hope that fades, but one that bears fruit every month, nourished by the river that flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, thank You for the living hope we have in You. Anchor my heart in Your promises. Let me live today in the light of what is coming—bearing fruit, offering healing, and looking always to You, who makes all things new. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

From Compost and Crucibles

How God Brings New Life Through Brokenness

“Behold, I make all things new.” — Revelation 21:5

During Lent, our leader Nate often turned to a rich and earthy metaphor: farming. He reminded us that new life grows out of what seems like waste—compost. From broken stalks and decaying matter, seeds find the nourishment they need to sprout. Life comes not in spite of death and decay, but through it.

One of my friends Dave, drawing from a very different field— metallurgy— shared a strikingly similar image. He explained that metals that have been stressed, bent, or beaten in the forging process undergo a transformation. With the application of gentle, consistent heat and time, a process called recrystallization occurs. From the most stressed and damaged areas, new grain structures begin to form. The metal doesn’t lose its essence—but its internal structure is reborn: stress-free, renewed, and stronger than before.

This pairing of metaphors—soil and steel—offers a deeply hopeful truth: God uses pressure, decay, and heat not to destroy us, but to remake us.

Biblical Reflections

Romans 8:28 reminds us: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Even in the compost. Even in the crucible.

2 Corinthians 4:16–17 speaks to this renewal: “Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

James 1:2–4 echoes the refining process: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials… because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance… so that you may be mature and complete.”

A Word from the Saints

Walter Brueggemann once wrote, “Hope is not simple optimism… but a bold conviction that God is tenaciously at work to redeem.” Both the compost pile and the forge are places of tenacious redemption.

William Barclay commented that the Christian life is often forged in adversity: “Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.”

Eugene Peterson, paraphrasing Romans 12:1 in The Message, writes: “Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering.” Even when life feels decayed or scorched, it can still be offered—and transformed.

Conclusion: A New Substance, Same Chemistry

Whether your life feels like it’s breaking down or being hammered into shape, know this: God is not wasting any part of the process.

From the decomposed comes growth.

From the forged comes strength.

From the ashes, resurrection.

Let us trust in the God who says: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

May we learn to see Lent not only as a season of giving up, but of being reshaped—so that by Easter, we emerge not just restored, but reborn.

Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Courage in the Face of Truth

 

The Moment to Decide

“Once to every man and nation,

Comes the moment to decide,

In the strife of truth with falsehood,

For the good or evil side…”

— James Russell Lowell

There comes a time in every life, and indeed in every nation, when the veil is lifted and the truth demands a response. The stirring hymn “Once to Every Man and Nation” by James Russell Lowell is not just a poetic reflection; it is a prophetic call to moral courage. Set to the tune Ebenezer by Thomas J. Williams, the hymn has echoed through generations as a challenge to stand for what is right—especially when doing so is costly.

Originally penned in 1845 as part of a protest against the Mexican-American War, Lowell’s words cut deeper than any political context. They draw from eternal truths of Scripture, challenging individuals and societies to choose between justice and compromise, between God’s truth and the world’s falsehood.

1. A Defining Moment for Every Soul

The hymn opens with a timeless truth: that each person, and each generation, faces a decisive moment. In Scripture, we see this pattern again and again:

• Joshua’s challenge: “Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15).
  
  
• Elijah’s plea: “How long will you waver between two opinions?” (1 Kings 18:21).
  
  
• Jesus’ own words: “Whoever is not with me is against me” (Matthew 12:30).
  
  

There is no neutral ground when the conflict between truth and falsehood becomes clear.

2. Truth Forever on the Scaffold

Lowell famously writes:

“Though the cause of evil prosper,

Yet ’tis truth alone is strong;

Though her portion be the scaffold,

And upon the throne be wrong…”

These lines echo the biblical theme that righteousness often suffers while evil seems to triumph—yet only for a time. Jesus Himself stood before Pilate, condemned though innocent, as truth incarnate sentenced by lies. The early Church faced persecution. The prophets were rejected. But in God’s kingdom, apparent defeat often hides ultimate victory.

Paul reminds us: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed… struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8–9). Truth may be on the scaffold, but God is not absent. “Behind the dim unknown, standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.”

3. The High Cost of Discipleship

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who chose to resist Hitler and paid with his life, often spoke of “the cost of discipleship.” In a time of widespread compromise, he chose the narrow path. So did Moses, who “chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin” (Hebrews 11:25).

The hymn compels us to consider: What am I standing for? What am I willing to sacrifice for truth?

4. God’s Side is Always Right

The final verse of the hymn (often omitted in modern hymnals) boldly proclaims:

“By the light of burning martyrs,

Christ, Thy bleeding feet we track,

Toiling up new Calvaries ever

With the cross that turns not back…”

This is a call to follow Christ wherever He leads—even through suffering and death. The narrow way is costly, but it leads to life.

Conclusion: The Time is Now

James Russell Lowell’s hymn is more than a relic of history—it’s a trumpet blast in a world of moral confusion. The decision to stand for truth is never theoretical. It comes to us in boardrooms, classrooms, living rooms, and courtrooms. It comes in how we treat the poor, how we speak up for the voiceless, how we live with integrity when no one is watching.

When that moment comes—and it will—may we be found faithful. May we be counted among those who “overcame by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony” (Revelation 12:11).

Prayer:

Lord, give me the wisdom to discern truth from falsehood, and the courage to choose what is right—even when it costs. Strengthen me with Your Spirit to stand firm, knowing You are with me in the fire. Help me live a life of quiet, uncompromising faithfulness to You. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

The Voyage of Life

Thomas Cole’s Pilgrimage Through Time and Eternity

In The Voyage of Life, Thomas Cole—a devout Christian and founder of the Hudson River School—paints not only rivers and skies, but also the soul’s sacred journey. This four-part series, completed in the 1840s, transforms the American landscape into a spiritual allegory, inviting viewers to meditate on life’s fleeting seasons and the eternal hope that lies beyond them.

Each canvas traces a stage of human life as the voyager travels down the “River of Life.” Cole envisioned these paintings not merely as decorative landscapes, but as sermons in color—visual meditations meant to “convey the Word of God through nature.” With a mastery of symbolism and atmosphere, he sets the soul’s journey within an ever-changing environment, reflecting the beauty and peril of life’s pilgrimage.

1. Childhood

In the first painting, the river emerges from a radiant cave, symbolizing birth. A golden angel guides a small child in a fragile boat shaped like a delicate shell. The landscape is Edenic—lush, glowing, filled with peace and promise. Here, innocence reigns. The river is calm and straight, suggesting the security and guidance of early life under divine protection.

Cole wrote: “The infant is buoyant with joy and trust; the guardian spirit rejoices with him.”

2. Youth

The second canvas reveals a confident young man now steering the boat alone, no longer seeing the angel that still watches from afar. The river is broad and majestic, winding toward a glorious castle in the sky—a symbol of ambition, dreams, and the allure of earthly glory. But unseen dangers lie ahead, masked by the idealism of youth.

Cole warns: “The scenery is full of beauty, but it is not the peaceful beauty of the first picture… There is a consciousness of danger.”

3. Manhood

Now the voyager enters stormy waters. The river narrows and rushes through a dark, rocky gorge. The skies darken with tempest. The boat is battered, and the voyager prays with upraised hands. The angel, once distant, now draws near again—a reminder that in life’s trials, divine help is never far.

Cole observes: “Trouble has overtaken the Voyager… the Spirit is ever near, and can sustain him in the darkest hour.”

4. Old Age

In the final painting, the voyager—now a serene old man—drifts peacefully into eternity. The river vanishes into celestial light as the angel beckons him toward heaven. The storms are over. The landscape gives way to an ethereal glow, symbolizing divine welcome and resurrection. It is a vision of Christian hope and eternal life.

Cole concludes: “The soul is received into the haven of immortal life.”

A Personal and National Allegory

While The Voyage of Life is unmistakably a Christian allegory of death and resurrection, it also serves as a poetic reflection on America itself. In Cole’s time, the United States was a young and rapidly changing nation—ambitious, vulnerable, and on the brink of defining its moral and spiritual character. The voyager can be read as a metaphor for the American experiment, navigating through promise, danger, struggle, and, with grace, redemption.

Through this series, Cole achieves something rare: a seamless union of landscape, theology, and national identity. His message is both personal and universal: that life is a voyage guided by Providence, fraught with peril but full of promise. And in the end, there is a Light that welcomes those who have kept faith through the storm.

Two Sets of a Masterwork

The Journey of The Voyage of Life

While The Voyage of Life is best known today through the luminous series on display in the octagonal gallery of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., many are surprised to learn that Thomas Cole actually painted two complete sets of this masterwork.

The first set, completed in 1840, was commissioned by Samuel Ward, a New York banker and devout Christian. Cole painted it for Ward’s private chapel, envisioning it as a devotional centerpiece for spiritual reflection. Tragically, Ward died before the paintings could be installed, and ownership passed to his family. In time, this original set was donated to the Munson-Williams-Proctor Arts Institute in Utica, New York, where it remains on view today as a centerpiece of their American art collection.

Cole’s second set, painted in 1842, was created at the urging of public demand after the first series was exhibited and received widespread acclaim. This version—slightly larger, with subtle compositional changes—was intended for public viewing and exhibition. It was this set that eventually found a permanent home at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., gifted in 1971. Today, it is installed in the Gallery’s West Building in a dedicated octagonal room, designed to reflect the sacred and cyclical journey depicted in the paintings.

The Utica set is prized for its intimacy and historical significance as the original, personal expression of Cole’s vision. The Washington set, meanwhile, reflects Cole’s evolving style and grander public ambitions, with a more dramatic use of light, scale, and atmospheric effect.

Together, the two series offer a rare glimpse into an artist revisiting and refining a deeply personal theme—both a meditation on the soul’s passage and, in Cole’s hands, a national allegory. Whether encountered in the spiritual hush of Utica or the stately halls of Washington, The Voyage of Life continues to speak across generations, inviting viewers to reflect on the beauty, fragility, and hope of the human journey.

National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C

The four paintings of The Voyage of Life by Thomas Cole are displayed in a specially designed octagonal gallery within the West Building of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. This architectural setting plays a significant role in enhancing the viewer’s experience of the series.

The octagonal room is a quiet, contemplative space—set apart from the busier corridors of the museum—allowing each visitor to encounter the paintings in an immersive, almost chapel-like environment. The room’s geometry creates a circular flow that echoes the journey of life itself, drawing the viewer to move from painting to painting in a natural, meditative sequence. It reflects Cole’s own desire that the works be viewed together as a unified spiritual narrative.

Each canvas is carefully positioned on a separate wall, inviting reflection on its unique emotional and symbolic mood while contributing to the overall arc of the series. The room’s soft lighting and restrained design enhance the transcendental quality of the paintings, emphasizing their allegorical content without distraction.

This spatial arrangement recalls the original intent of Cole’s patron, Samuel Ward, who envisioned the series for a personal chapel or sacred setting. Though Ward passed away before the paintings were completed, the National Gallery’s octagonal room offers a modern realization of that vision—transforming the viewing of art into a form of pilgrimage, contemplation, and theological encounter.

Soli Deo Gloria