In a bright corner of a beautiful forest there grew an evergreen—a fir to be exact. And the very first spring of that little tree’s life, it seemed clear that it would grow up to be quite a beautiful little tree.
Children who played in that part of the woods would run their hands through its needles and tell each other in their own little way what a nice tree it was, but the tree was unhappy. He looked high, high above him to the tops of the other great trees that grew in the forest and he wished more than anything in the world to be like the great, towering pines and firs that grew all around him.
One fine spring day, just as the tree was beginning to feel that he was getting a bit taller, a young deer came bounding through the forest. It ran towards the little fir tree and with one bound sailed straight over him. The little tree could hardly have felt more small and ashamed. All that spring, he noticed nothing of the sweet song of the bluebirds, or the gentle ripple of the brook, or the beauty of the green leaves and buds coming out all around it. He thought only of the shame of being such a small tree that a deer could take him in a single leap.
That summer, when the children came to laugh and play all around the little tree, he was deaf to the music of their laughter, the beauty of the dappled sunshine, the ever-changing masterpiece of fluffy white clouds in the deep blue sky. The tree had only one thought. “If only I were as tall as the other trees.”
In autumn, a team of woodcutters came to the forest. Saws buzzed, trucks rumbled, and many of the tallest and stateliest of the forest’s great trees came crashing to the ground. They were stripped of their branches and hauled out of the forest and the little fir tree wondered where they could be going. That night, an owl came and perched on a branch next to the fir tree and told him he had swooped low over some stately houses that were being built in the next valley and he had seen and smelled great, long beams made of pine and fir that were destined for those houses. The little tree ached to be a part of such a worthy project. If only he were long enough and broad enough to be a beam in a magnificent mansion. And all that autumn, none of the beautiful colors of the forest meant anything to the little fir tree.
That winter, he was unaware of the quiet awe that surrounded him as the forest lay under a blanket of untouched snow.
And so season after season passed, and year after year. Children still played around the little tree, rabbits took refuge beneath his lower limbs, deer quietly slipped by, birds nested in his branches, and each year the tree grew a bit taller, a bit fuller, and all who saw him remarked that he really was a beautiful little tree. But none of it meant anything to the little fir tree. Day after day, he wished only that he could be taller and broader, that he could be one of the great trees that dominated the forest.
One day in late autumn, about seven years after the tree had first poked his green head out of the ground, a different sort of woodcutter came to the forest. He did not fell the tall trees. Instead, he looked for smaller trees—beautiful firs. He began to cut them down and haul them out, branches and all.
The little fir tree asked a blackbird he knew if he could guess why the man was taking these smaller trees and hauling them off. The blackbird flew off to discover the reason and a few weeks later he had a thrilling answer. The bird told of fir trees being taken into people’s homes
“They take the trees into the houses,” he said, “they fill them with little lights, they put gold and silver balls and stars on them, and ribbons, and candies shaped like canes, and all sorts of other adornments of all sizes and colors.”
He was breathless with excitement and the fir tree felt a pang of longing. Oh, to be treated so royally!
But the winter passed and spring came and still the fir tree stood in his bright little corner of the beautiful forest, just as miserable as ever. Spring passed into summer and summer into autumn, and all that year, the fir tree knew not one day of happiness.
Then, one autumn day, the woodcutter came back and he looked at the fir tree and measured it and nodded his head and before the tree knew what was happening, his trunk was cut and he was in the back of a truck bumping down an old dirt road towards the town. His little corner of the forest was fading into the distance in a cloud of dust. He was filled with excitement, but as they rounded a corner he felt something else deep inside him—he would never again see that bright little corner of the forest.
Later that week, the little fir tree found himself inside a large, beautiful house. He was set up, his trunk screwed into an odd contraption, strings of lights were wound around him and suddenly he found himself surrounded by children. They were moving all around him, laughing loudly, and all talking at the same time. Out of an array of boxes they pulled shiny metallic balls, colorful ribbons, candy canes, and dozens of other bright items. Chaotically, they hung these decorations all over the tree until he felt he could hold no more. Finally, they placed a gold star on his head.
Then, they all stood back and gazed at the tree. They smiled and chattered happily and congratulated each other on a job well done. Then, they crowded out of the room and the tree was left alone. The little fir tree was honored by all the attention, but it was a bit overwhelming. It wasn’t right that his roots were not firmly planted in the ground and the lights and decorations were a bit heavy. Something inside the tree longed to be back in his bright little corner of the forest.
Days passed by filled with bustle and activity in the house. Children ran by the little fir tree, but most people paid him little attention. Each day, he grew more tired and he began to feel old. Surely, he thought, this is not all there is—to sit in this grand living room to be admired. After all, no one really seemed to be admiring him.
Then, one night, the tree found the space under his lowest branches filled to overflowing with boxes wrapped in bright paper and ribbons. The next morning, a mob of loud, laughing children overtook him. They pulled the boxes out, they tore the paper, they yelled to each other about what they found inside. The little fir tree was shaken and jostled and one of his branches was even broken in the frenzy.
When that day of bright excitement ended, the tree felt really, truly weary. The next few days passed more quietly. The children passed by and occasionally smiled at the little fir tree and part of him missed the wild joy of that Christmas morning. Then, one day, all his decorations were quietly removed, he was dragged outside, and dropped in the corner of the yard. As snow fell quietly, he began to feel lonely. He longed for the sound of footsteps passing by. He longed for the laughing, screaming children.
One day, a sparrow landed next to the fir tree and gave him an odd look. He asked the tree the reason he had for lying out here all alone and the little fir tree began to tell his story. He told of the living room and the decoration and the gifts and the sparrow marveled. The fir tree went on to tell of his life in the bright little corner of the forest and when he had finished, the sparrow exclaimed, “This is so wonderful! What a happy life you have had!”
“Happy? Yes, I suppose it has been happy, hasn’t it? At least, I’ve had every reason to be happy…”
He grew silent. The sparrow chirped and flew away and the fir tree spent a lonely winter wishing for company.
Spring came, the snow thawed, and finally one day, someone came out and began to drag the little fir tree back towards the house. He thrilled with excitement. He saw birds, he saw flowers blooming, he saw children talking and laughing, and he thought again of his days in the forest. Now, he was sure, he would finally know happiness.
But it was not to be. The fir tree was thrown on top of a great pile of sticks and branches in the middle of the yard and the whole pile was set ablaze. The fir tree wished for his little home in the forest, he wished for the bright and boisterous living room, he even wished for the quiet solitude of his lonely corner of the yard, but it was all gone.
And children laughed and played and warmed their hands by the fire as the little fir tree burned down to ashes.
I know, it’s a depressing story. You can blame Hans Christian Andersen for that. It was his fairy tale that served as the basis for my version. But I share such a morbid tale with you because I fear that many people’s lives bear a striking resemblance to that of the little fir tree.
Think of a brand new nation called Israel. God has done the impossible. He has brought the enslaved Jews out of Egypt with an amazing display of His unlimited power. He has supplied them again and again. He miraculously gives them water and food, but they want something else. They want meat!
Their minds return to the foods of Egypt. They dream of fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, garlic [Numbers 11:5]. They begin to think that if only they were Egypt they would be eating like kings. Everything would be so much better!
We rightfully laugh at their foolishness. How can they think it would be better to be back in slavery than to be a free nation under the care and protection of God Himself! But that’s how it is, isn’t it?
The thing we don’t have always looks better than the thing we do have.
Adam and Eve were not content with what God had given them. They wanted the fruit from that one tree God had forbidden. King David was not content. He wanted Bathsheba. Solomon was not content. In Ecclesiastes he tells us that he tried just about everything in his quest for happiness.
We can all get wrapped up in wanting the next thing or the new thing or just the one thing that we don’t have. But that stems from a warped view of our current position and current possessions as given to us by God.
1 Timothy 6 declares that “godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and raiment let us be therewith content.”
Contentment does not come easily to any of us.
Children wish they were adults.
Single people wish they were married.
Married people wish they had children.
Parents wish their children were out of the house.
Empty-nesters wish their children were still at home.
Young people wish they were older.
Old people wish they were younger.
Those who work jobs wish they could retire.
Retired people wish they could work again.
Hebrews 13:5 says, “Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”
The reminder of the faithful presence of God ought to serve to combat our discontentedness. When we recognize that He is with us and He is perfectly wise in how He is orchestrating our lives, it frees us to experience the joys of life before they pass us by. It’s a tragic reality that many people spend the first half of their lives looking forward impatiently and the second half of their lives looking back wistfully.
God doesn’t mean it to be that way. Only when we live contented in Him can we truly see and savor the many joys that can be found right where God has put us.
Read Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Fir Tree“
Exempla 