Falling Trees
Or, "On Joy"
Sometime around 10:30 PM on March 15th, 2026, a rather large oak made an unfortunate decision. Succumbing to the temptations presented by strong winds, its far-too-shallow root structure pulled up from wet and weakened soil—sending the top-heavy battering ram tree on collision course with my home.
We were in the basement—my wife and I huddled around our four children. Ductwork and plumbing shook, glass shattered, and a supporting beam above us cracked.1 It is not a moment I enjoy reliving in my imagination. “Scary” is an accurate word, though it feels neutered.
When that first tornado passed, and before the second could arrive (yes, there was a second), we ran out of the home and through the dark and the rain to our neighbor’s home, unsure if our own home was safe any longer.
Our neighbors were like disguised angels, the way they took us in and welcomed us to plop onto their floor—soaking wet, holding back tears, and praying. The blur of the night that followed was trying to understand the logistics of letting the right people (emergency services, insurance, etc.) know my home had received an unwelcome visit from our favorite tree and floundering on how to help my boys not be traumatized.
In other words, it was a blur.
When streams of sunlight flooded the world, putting to death the night, the damage to our home became apparent.
Shallow & Cliché
As a 90s kid raised in the pool of western evangelicalism, I’m hyper-sensitive to Christian cliché. Moreover, I’m keenly aware of the tendency we all have to skim headlines and photos, whoring our imaginations out to see damage and destruction, ignoring the sanctity of the cognitive commitment we should have with empathy and meditative thinking.
And so, I am hesitant to share my experiences lest readers choose not to pay close attention to my words and intentions, rather than skimming the images of my broken home and then clicking away.
Why not assume this article will merely boil down into something akin to “God is still good”? Of course, He is still good, but that isn’t actually what He is teaching me in this season. It isn’t all I have to say.
In this moment, I’m learning the absolute overwhelming joy that is trusting in Jesus.
The Fraud Feeling
For many of us, that sense of feeling like a fraud when we say we “trust” in Jesus is not condemnation from the Evil One, but conviction from the Spirit. There is a reality that when we are living in the disconnect between what we tell ourselves we believe and what our lives actually testify our beliefs are, we get that welling up inside us of fraudulent feelings.
Of course, none of us live in a perfect harmony between the two, but true disciples are living in a pattern of life that is ever moving closer to Jesus’ example—and repenting when it falls short.
Now, the Evil One will usually leverage that feeling of conviction and attempt to accomplish one of two things:
A self-loathing that drains you of any energy to make change, or
A lulling into the lie that God’s love is given so freely, it requires nothing from us and so those feelings are not true.2
The Spirit, meanwhile, wants conviction to draw us into prayer, repentance, and a desperate plea to God for direction.
In our context in the west, many people (myself included) have built up whole lives in which we are protected from the need to live in daily dependence upon the Lord for our material life. We, very literally, do not need God to provide our daily bread. That line in the Lord’s prayer may feel silly.
Thus, when we say aloud (or in our hearts) “I trust the Lord,” there is a logical follow up question that I believe the Spirit plants in our hearts.
“How do you know you trust me?”
In other words, where is the evidence of this trust? If we have no evidence, we likely have no trust.
Perhaps this is why James writes,
Now the brother or sister of humble circumstances is to glory in his high position; but the rich person is to glory in his humiliation, because like flowering grass he will pass away. For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; and its flower falls off and the beauty of its appearance is destroyed; so also the rich person, in the midst of his pursuits, will die out.
James 1: 9-11 NASB3
The poor in the church are in “high position”, perhaps because they are those who truly live on faith. They are not “double minded” but live in daily belief that God will provide their daily bread. And the rich? Well, they could become poor (much easier to become poor than rich, mind you), but instead they choose to be flowering grass—they look pretty today, but will burn up.
Although the letter that James wrote is often used like a grab bag of disparate quotes are persevering, bridling your tongue, and showing faith through works, it’s earnestly a beautifully symphonic treatise to compel us to have so much faith in Jesus that we demonstrate it by doing the thing that is right.
So for one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, for him it is sin.
James 4: 17 NASB
So, back to that feeling of being a fraud. For many of us, we have encountered a Jesus that compels us to do more than we are, give more than we do, and forgive more radically than we have. For some of us, this is a condemnation complex caused by demonic influences.
But if you are sitting in excess wealth while those in your community are struggling to pay rent, it’s probably not a condemnation from the Devil, but a simple recognition that there is something that is “right” and you have not done it. The Spirit inside of you is nudging, pushing, urging you towards that which is “right”.
If your mind has drifted to a parent, a sibling, or an ex-spouse you refuse to talk to, it’s probably a simple recognition that there is something that is “right” and you have not done it.
Many of us experience a “Christian culture” that has tried so hard to teeter-totter away from a guilt-driven and work-based faith, that we have ended up with something less than “Christian”. Take, for example, the line “Christianity isn’t a religion, it’s a relationship”. Then read James 1: 26-27, “If anyone thinks himself to be religious, yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this person’s religion is worthless. Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”
And lest anyone think to themselves, “ah, yes, Phil, but when I say it’s not ‘religion’ I’m referring to a works-based system of rules and actions.”
To which I would just like to point out that James seems to think “pure and undefiled religion” is demonstrated through works—visiting the least of these in distress, and keeping oneself “unstained’ by the world (including the accumulation of material wealth).
What I am getting at is this: there is a healthy understanding that there is a point in which our actions are so out of alignment with what we claim our faith to be, that we are lying to ourselves.
So, back to that oak that bashed in my house.
The House I’ve Built
There are many wonderful gifts God has given me as it relates to my discipleship, and this tree landing on my home is perhaps one of the greatest.
Or, that’s not right exactly.
You see, the tree landing on my home is not good. The fear and potential trauma, the destruction and waste, the displacement, the inability to sleep as our bodies just work off the stress and adrenalin… it is, by definition, bad.
And yet, it’s also been a time of deep joy.
Once upon a time, I worked out very regularly. I can still remember when I pushed myself to do higher and higher box jumps4, until I was able to leap nearly chest-high. That early-morning, after I just realized what I had done, I was in a sort of awe at how far my body had come. I had never thought I could actually jump so high.
In a weird way, this season has been a wonderful reflection on how far the Lord has brought my wife and I in the area of faith related to our finances.
I can faithfully say (without hyperbole) that I am not worried about my finances.
I should be poorer than ever before, mind you. Moving into full time ministry, we have been led into a life without stable income, and now our primary financial asset has a large tarp draped over it and a few too many windows. It’ll be months of repairs, uncertainty, and displacement. So, I should be an anxious wreck.
Of course, there was a few days of genuine hustle as my wife and I did our due diligence to try and get a crash course in home owners insurance and find a safe place for our children and us to sleep, but this past month has been otherwise very easy.
God has provided friends and community who love us deeply. We never lacked for a safe place to be (we actually had a half-dozen offers from friends to come and live with them), our community has been financially generous, we have had more help with cleaning and moving our things, and insurance has miraculously (and I mean that literally) been wonderful.
But all that provision, all those gifts, all that love, was the Lord responding to our prayers made in faith—because He loves us. And He did not let us encounter this difficulty until we were ready. Like with the box jump, God has given my wife and I the gift of reflection—the sight to see all that we have persevered in the testing of our faith, and how that produced endurance, which is having its perfect result so that we are being brought to completion, lacking nothing.
But to get to this place of faith, God had to upend our entire financial life. No material wealth or security could stay, for if it did then there would be at least one central part of my life in which I could not faithfully say “I trust the Lord.”
There have been moments in my life where I have felt like a fraud, because I was a fraud.
I said, “I trust the Lord” and had no meaningful actions or works to show that to be true. I had begun my journey of discipleship to Jesus in simple faith, but that faith would have shriveled up and died after too long—devoid of works done in faith. By God’s grace, there were enough believers in my life to push me onward, and just enough willingness in me to take steps forward (as small as they often were).
But some of you have no community driving you on, and perhaps you even attend a church group that is (with good intentions) so focused on ensuring you don’t feel guilty, they have drawn you into spiritual apathy. When thoughts of zealous faith and sacrificial actions arise, you push them down as “works based”. Or perhaps you have pushed back so hard on the teachings of Jesus (or worse, co-opted political ideologies and slapped Jesus’ name on them) that your heart has hardened without you realizing.
Either way, today is a new today.
This is perhaps the greatest gift of sacrificial financial giving—it places us in that terrifyingly beautiful place of genuine trust. And when I say “sacrificial” I am talking about giving so much money, time, resources, love, and forgiveness, that we have not saved enough for ourselves. The sort of giving in which we have to say “no” to some crucial or meaningful element of our lives because of our giving.
Shallow, non-sacrificial, giving (whether of money, time, energy, etc) lulls is into thinking we aren’t slaves to our money or worldly ideologies, while keeping us bound very, very, tight, indeed.5
For many years, I wanted to trust in Jesus, to really believe that God could and would provide for me. I wanted to come to a place of freedom in which I could cast all my anxiety on Him, because I know He cares for me.6 But there is a duplicity, a fakeness, to those of us who claim we “trust” in God without ever allowing ourselves to be put in a position of trust.
No, in order for our faith to be shown as “genuine” it must be tested. For most Christians in our western culture, that test will be tied up directly in our wealth.
Change and Falling Trees
I am happy to report that God is exceedingly patient and loving.
Although it is best when we respond with obedience when He says “sell all you have and follow me”, He isn’t going to give up on us when we drag our feet and bounce between trust and anxiety. He’ll romance us, stay with us, and continue to beckon us.
For my wife and I, this has taken many years.
Brief moments of radical generosity made space for larger steps of financial faith. Those steps gave our imaginations the framework to hear God tell us to make a move across state lines (not an easy thing for us). But even then, he allowed us to keep my job in the short term for we would have been too scared to move without a “stable” income.7
In love, He positioned us where He desired and then ripped off the financial Band-Aid (read: losing my job). I am not some faithful prophet who said “yes” to radical faith. I am a rather pathetic man who has been deeply afraid of not providing for my family. Perhaps my only redeeming quality is that I want to love God more than I do.
Every time my youngest son has a Band-Aid, he is deeply afraid of having it removed. I have to hold him and rip it off quick, then keep holding him while he goes through the mental “that hurt!” then “wait, did that hurt?” followed by “oh… that didn’t hurt.”
Like a loving Dad, the Lord ripped off the Band-Aid and then held me while I cried and screamed about the pain, and even to the point where the initial sting wore off and I could I look up and say, “oh, that really didn’t hurt at all.”
The very thing I was so deeply afraid of—putting all my financial eggs in the Jesus basket—is actually one of the nicest and easiest things in the world. I sleep better, I laugh easier, and worry less. It’s kinda awesome.
What I am trying to say is this—God desires for us to be people who will say “yes” to the “big” things, but He will patiently work with us to get there slowly. He will do for you what He has done for me, giving you opportunities for small moments of giving, which build to bigger moments, then steps of faith, then full on trials.
He will never give you more than you can handle, but He will likely give you more than you feel you can handle.
You only need to keep saying, “yes”.
Friend, I plead with you to kill your dreams of wealth and security that will help you justify a “no” to the Lord. This is the great danger, the snake in the grass ready to strike.
In your mind, imagine a life in which you can give everything away and not seek to rebuild it. Imagine treasures in Heaven and imagine yourself spurning earthly ones. Hold on to those images. Stop listening to the wealth building podcasts, YouTubers, and books. Beg your spouse to give those up too.
Soak in the Gospels, the teachings of Jesus, and the radical acts of love in the Church.
Let yourself despise your wealth. Encourage it. Stoke that fire.
No one has stood before the Lord and heard, “oh, if only you had not hated your wealth so much, you could have done more for my Kingdom.”
No, indeed those who hate their wealth the most hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” for those people likewise love their Messiah more and more. It is why Church history tells us the earliest apostles did not die in mansions nor in fine clothes, but as poor men.
Like Jesus.
And for those who tell you that the early church “needed” rich people to “fund” the apostle missions… pity them, for they think too small of God. 8
Tis So Sweet To Trust In Jesus
’Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, Just to take Him at His word; Just to rest upon His promise; Just to know, Thus saith the Lord. Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him, How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er, Jesus, Jesus, Precious Jesus! O for grace to trust Him more. O how sweet to trust in Jesus, Just to trust His cleansing blood; Just in simple faith to plunge me, ’Neath the healing, cleansing flood. Yes, ’tis sweet to trust in Jesus, Just from sin and self to cease; Just from Jesus simply taking Life, and rest, and joy, and peace. I’m so glad I learned to trust Thee, Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend; And I know that Thou art with me, Wilt be with me to the end. — Louisa M. R. Stead
A Side Note
For the record (as I know some will ask), the Snyder family is doing well. We really have had an overflow of love from God and His Church, and—in some tangible way that I can’t fully put words to—I have more joy than ever.
Not happiness, mind you. I am tired and have struggled with impatience and moments of melancholy. But joy is the primary experience of my life, and why wouldn’t it be? God is exceedingly good, and my family is being allowed to participate in His story.
It’s incredible.
Plus, the books the Lord has entrusted us to publish are still moving forward (more on that in our upcoming newsletter).
By God’s grace, we did not notice at the time, otherwise terror might truly have taken over.
On this later point, see Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book The Cost of Discipleship for its discussion on “cheap grace”.
Important note, the NASB adds “is to glory” for the rich man, though the greek word (καυχάομαι) is only used for the poor man. I would personally translate the line as follows:
Now the brother or sister of humility is to glory in his high position; but the rich in his humiliation, because like flowering grass he will pass away. For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; and its flower falls off and the beauty of its appearance is destroyed; so also the rich, in the midst of his pursuits, will die out.
James 1: 9-11 (author translation adapted from NASB)
Note, James does not even refer to the rich person as a “brother”.
If you are unfamiliar, it is just as it sounds… you jump onto boxes.
Quick aside, this is the drug of the ultra-rich “christian” who gives away nine million dollars, keeping “only” one million for himself. The world looks on and says, “How holy. How sacred.” How happy the pastor is, perhaps they will make him an elder. Meanwhile, Jesus is deeply unimpressed. In fact, He is grieved.
1 Peter 5:7
Experiencing a layoff is a good way to redefine “stable” in our life.
God loved the rich (and the poor) so much, He let them have an outlet for draining their wealth so that they would have more space to love the Lord. God needed nothing from them, but in His graciousness He invited them to participate in the work He was already doing. Remember what Paul says about those financial gifts “funding” his ministry—he did not need them, but was grateful for the credit to the spiritual account of the believers (see Philippians 4).
Very, very well written. Thank you for sharing. Blessings to you and your sweet family.
Wow, I’m so sorry this happened, and I also am so grateful for God’s gift of the Spirit’s joy in your life. Thank you for sharing your story, but also for the gentle push away from trusting in wealth. It’s such an insidious temptation (idol), and so difficult to reject. I’m always grateful for your witness!