My two friends and I have kept watch on this mountain for more seasons than I can remember.
Time passes slowly on this peak and I eventually stopped counting the changes of Moon, but I have never tired of watching the movements of the creations in my view.
They build cities then war with each other and the cities melt away and are built again. They are born, grow, marry, grow old, and eventually die. They work in their fields and their shops, and sometimes hold great festivals. The music carries to us high on this mountain. It makes me wish I had feet and ankles and knees and could dance. Instead, I become a little less rigid and let Wind move me more.
The three of us stand close together at the highest peak. Many others grow around us, yet keep their distance. They seem wary of us, though I am not sure why. Perhaps it is our age. We have seen many of our kind harvested and carried down the mountain and others planted in their place.
We do not speak, but Wind whispers to us. She is sometimes playful and other times mysterious and in many seasons we have felt her pass by with no whispers, only sadness at the events happening across Earth. We feel when Wind is sad and we do not resent her when she will not play, but we honor her sadness and feel it with her.
I do not remember how I came to be planted in this place, but one memory will never fade no matter how many times Moon changes his shape.
It was the day the Creator visited. He said nothing as He stood on the peak with us, as if surveying His creations. He stood for a long time, even by our standards.
We watched Him intently, my friends and I. How I wished I could speak and ask Him all the questions I had collected over the centuries. His eyes sparkled as he looked at us and His look seemed to say, “Be more patient.”
I understood that as old as I was, He was older and wiser and would do as He would.
I resolved to be more patient.
He touched each of us on our trunks, just for a moment and then vanished from our view.
More of our fellow-kind were harvested. Others were planted and grew. The creations in the image of our Creator took care in clearing away fallen trees as well. They maintained the trails around our fellows, but let the three of us stand for many more changes of Moon. Snow fell and melted. Wind danced, played, whispered to us, and mourned. The villages below us grew, burned in war, and grew again. Time passed.
One quiet Summer morning, rays from Sun began to show on the horizon many leagues away when Wind suddenly grew silent.
Only one other time in my memory had Wind stayed silent on this high peak, and I waited in anticipation for our Creator to show Himself again.
The dawn slowly gathered around the horizon, but the summit around us immediately grew brighter and it soon became as bright as full daylight immediately around us. A being of light—of the kind made to resemble the Creator—descended from Heaven and came to rest on the ground in front of my friends and me.
He spoke, and his voice felt like Wind as it surrounded our limbs and even passed through us, saying, “Great Cedars of Lebanon, I am Michael, and I have been sent by the King and Creator of the Universe to set you apart to fulfill the purposes of your creation.”
Michael taught us for hours and opened visions to us of the formation of our mountain, a great flood, and the ways—both ways of good and ways of evil—of the people he called Mankind. We learned many of our Creator’s names, including Jehovah, King of Kings, and Prince of Peace. We learned that Michael was present with Jehovah when Earth and Moon were made, when the stars were placed in the Heavens, and when Wind was permitted to roam free.
We learned it was Michael himself who planted the three of us, along with all our forest, by assignment. He cited the writings of man, some written and some not yet written which documented our contributions to the ways of Man.
My favorite was a writing which would proclaim the beauties of the Creator’s works and say about my kind, “The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted” (Psalm 104:16).
Trees of the Lord! We were trees of the Almighty God and we had a commission to fulfill. I straightened and lifted my limbs as much as I could and was anxious to know more so I could do whatever was asked of me.
Michael showed us a vision of a new building. It was majestic and filled with gold and silver and bronze and beautiful woven tapestries. I saw hundreds of Mankind dressed in white robes. Many of them gathered in the courtyard of the building. Others stood on the ramparts and sang a hymn. Others blew on long horns.
“This will be the first temple of Israel, built in a city to the south, where these will gather to worship God, offer sacrifice, and where God can commune with them. Starting today,” Michael swept his arm to include the three of us, and all of our kind in view, “all of you will be harvested by the men of Lebanon and sent to the men of Israel to lend your strength to build this temple.”
The angel turned to face us again. “But you, great ones, were planted and protected for special service and I am here by assignment once again.”
He stepped forward and placed a hand on the trunk of the Cedar on my left. “You will serve for many years bearing the weight of the temple of God, until it shall be destroyed because of the wickedness of the Israelites. The remnants of the building will be left to decay and you will languish for many seasons until you are carried away and crafted by a man into a new thing—”
A vision was opened to our view of my friend built into a manger, holding hay for the animals in a small, foreign village. Creatures of various types and sizes ate from the hay he held, rubbed against him to scratch their noses, and he became weathered, worn, and forgotten.
I sensed my friend sag somewhat at the scene. His limbs drooped and I knew we all wondered what kind of mission this was to serve. Why was Michael sent to show us this? It was a sad end to a monumental life, first spent keeping watch over Mankind and Earth for centuries and then serving as an integral piece of the House of the Lord.
And what of this wickedness by the Israelite nation which would lead them to disregard the blessing of communing with the Creator in His own house? How could such a thing happen? The ways of these creatures in the image of our Creator mystified me.
The angel interrupted my musings and the scene before us changed. “And so you shall be until the meridian of time when the Father shall send His Son in the flesh.”
We watched as Man and Woman, for we had learned they were so named, made a bed for the Woman from the clean straw and brought forth a new Man—a Child. And we understood the Child to be our Creator. The same who had visited us so many seasons before and who had touched our trunks and who had smiled upon us. The Child God was wrapped in cloth and laid in the remnants of the great tree who stood beside me, now so tall and straight, limbs held higher than I had ever seen. I sensed his desire to be obedient and fulfill this assignment, and I felt his confidence and honored him in my silence.
We were told a new name. “Behold, the Lamb of God.”
Michael passed by me, moved to the Cedar on my right, and lifted his hand to my friend’s trunk. I wondered, and I knew my friends wondered, what would be revealed to us next. “You, as well, will be cast down in the destruction of the temple, and will be forgotten for many seasons. Until one day you will be gathered with many of your kind and carried to a new village to be made useful in a new way.”
The vision was opened to us again and we saw a workshop. Tools of Mankind hung in neat rows upon the walls and Sun’s rays streamed through the windows, while dust played in the beams of light. A door opened and closed and a Man selected a tool from the wall. He turned toward a long beam of Cedar laying across supports made from other trees, and we recognized Him. It was our Creator grown from Child to Man.
“You, great Cedar, will be fashioned into a new table by God Himself, and in this season of His life he will be called Jesus of Nazareth, the carpenter’s son. The table will provide useful service for many years to a new family created by the marriage of a Man and Woman.”
We watched as Jesus of Nazareth bent over the wood and caressed it. He paused, holding the tool at his side in one hand and bent his head in reverence. We understood Him to be praying to His Father and giving thanks for my friend and a life spent in usefulness. I felt the familiar stiffening of my friend as he resolved to fulfill his errand and I felt honored to have been in his company for so many years.
Now the angel approached me. He stood silently for a moment, as if he struggled to find the right words, and I wondered at his hesitation.
Finally, Michael drew close, placed his hand on my trunk, and breathed deeply. “Great Cedar.” His voice was hoarse and he paused and began again. “Oh, Great Cedar, your calling will be the most difficult of all to bear and I call upon the Lord to strengthen you and make you equal to the task before you.
“You will be cast down from the temple mount with the others and remain apart from them, long forgotten and discarded. The temple will be rebuilt and destroyed again, and rebuilt again, and you will be in its shadow for many, many seasons. You will see the good and the evil of Mankind as armies come and go from the land promised to the Israelites, until a new army will occupy the land.”
As we anticipated, my fellows and I saw the vision open and we watched as legions of soldiers invaded the land and subjugated the remnant of the Sons and Daughters of Israel. They fashioned tools of torture from my kind and ultimately from the worn beam which I had become.
“Your final years of use upon this Earth will be difficult for you. But I ask you to be patient—”
Be more patient, I thought. In the face of the evil which passed before me, I resolved again to be more patient. I knew that all things were in the Hands of the Creator and that His wisdom surpassed mine.
The angel continued as the scene changed again. “Until the terrible day will come when you will be required to lift the Son of Man and nobly bear Him as He suffers.” I watched as the soldiers stripped the coat and clothes from our Creator and scourged Him until He bled. I saw in the vision that my remnants lay on the ground nearby, waiting, and I began to shake. My limbs trembled violently and I heard the angel groan in agony himself.
The Creator was forced to the ground and I was placed across His back. Internally, I longed to cry out in pain and the rough bark which had protected me for so many centuries began to tear and sap ran down my trunk. I felt my companions tremble nearby but my attention was focused on the trail up the hillside, the man who stepped from the crowd to pick me up and carry me, and the two other crosses which already held Men. The Creator was nailed to my beam, His blood drained onto me, and together we were lifted to the top of another Cedar which had been waiting.
“You will be called upon to assist this foreign army do a terrible thing, but in doing so, you will also serve the purposes of God.”
I saw the sign nailed to the top of the cross which read, “THE KING OF THE JEWS.”
Thankfully, the angel allowed the vision to continue and we saw our Creator die, taken down from the cross, and laid to rest in a tomb of stone. We beheld with glory, and we rejoiced together, in the moment when He stepped forth from the tomb again and we saw Him commission His followers to spread His example and teachings to all the ends of Earth.
My limbs stopped shaking, but I allowed my sap to run freely from the rents in my bark as I felt the joy of knowing that I would play a small part in the designs of our Creator and would help Him accomplish His purposes.
I felt exhausted from the hours spent with Michael, but I slowly gathered my strength and lifted myself to as much height as I could and inwardly committed to do what was required of me.
Michael, who had collapsed against me at some point, using my trunk to hold himself up, drew away slightly, but he kept his palm flat against me, bowed his head slightly and nodded. “I know you will.”
With those final words, Michael stepped away from us and ascended into Heaven from where he had come.
I glanced at my friends to my left and my right. All of the Cedars which surrounded us, but had kept their distance from us for so many years bent in our direction and allowed their limbs to wave as Wind resumed her natural ways. She touched our limbs and we felt her express her joy and reverence.
Wind conveyed that she would miss us as a small group of Mankind stepped from the shadows among our fellows.
One of the Men stepped into the sunshine, put down his bag, and stretched. He called to the others and pointed to the open ground. “We’ll make camp here. We’ll be here for a few days preparing the trees.”
As the others of Mankind—those strange creatures capable of so much good and so much evil at the same time—began to make their camp, this leader of Men stepped toward my friends and me. “We will start with these three. They are perfect for the temple.”
No one heard him but us, and silently, we lifted our limbs and gave our thanks.
