A Monument
of Love
After a three-day trek high into the Andes, we reached the summit of a mountain with an unpronounceable name, and made our way to the single tree on its peak. It had withstood time and tempest. Here, on this special place, we etched a permanent memorial to the love we had for each other.
Yeah, in my dreams!
 We—she who would marry me, and me—were in my ute driving along a dirt road in South Australian scrub when I saw a tree big enough, about 10 metres from the road. I stopped, rifled through the glove box until I found my pocket knife and asked her to come with me.
You could feel the romance in the air. Heat, flies and romance.
On the tree I carved a heart with the initials BM and MO inside it. We embraced, briefly, before running back to the ute to get out of the heat.
Oh, the wild things you do when you’re in love.
A few months later MO became MM (MMM, actually—mmm, nice). And we have this tree that’s “our” tree. It’s a reminder of our love for each other.
I’m sure we would visit this sacred-to-us site regularly if we could. No, it isn’t that we now live interstate, it’s simply that neither of us can remember where it is.
Hmmm.
Now, where was I?
Oh, yes. What’s more important than the tree is the fact that she who loves me does love me. Who needs anything more?
When God etched His love for me (and you) on a tree, he did it not with a knife and initials, but with Jesus’ body and blood. That cross became a permanent memorial of God’s love.
More important than the memorial, though, is the fact that He who loves me does love me (and you). He was dying to have us back in His family (see John 1:12).
Wow!
Forget the tree, forget the cross, see the love. Better yet, accept the love. Best yet, God’s love is constant—it’s always there for me (and you). Who needs anything more?
By the way, if you happen to find a tree about 10 metres from a dirt road in South Australian scrub, would you mind checking . . .
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Bruce Manners (left) is senior pastor of
the Avondale College church.