In between my two classrooms on campus, a tangled mess of a tree sits. Those low sprawling branches look more like the root structure than the branches.
I walk past those roots that feed on nothing but air.
It’s an image of emptiness and futility.
I recall Proverbs 15 and the mouth that feeds on folly. I think of the deluded heart in Isaiah 44 that feeds on ashes. I think of Ephraim in Hosea 12 who feeds on the wind. In each case, we read a warning about those who believe they have found soul-sustanance but are, in fact, starving.
Oh, that my roots would go down deep and feed my soul! I read how Jesus invites others into this nourishment. He says, astonishingly, that “the one who feeds on me will live” (John 6), and that “all who come to me will never thirst” (John 4).
I do not want to feed on air. I think about what I’m drawing in and upon what I let my soul feed.