My husband Tripp is an arborist. Since we married 25 years ago, I’ve learned a lot about trees, and he’s learned a lot about people who know nothing about trees. Perhaps that’s helped him in a way, since he meets at least a thousand people a year like me — people who need help understanding their trees.

Neither of us knew much about Jesus when we met. As New Age seekers, we thought He was just one of the many spiritual teachers available, a good source of helpful quotations. We had a picture of Jesus on our meditation altar — along with half a dozen other gurus.

In 1987, when we were well into our 30s, someone told us who Jesus really is. I remember thinking, “Why didn’t anyone tell us this before? I never knew He was God’s Son! Of course I want Him as Lord and Savior!”

From that moment, everything looked different. It would be some time before we found the verses, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. … Live as children of light and find out what pleases the Lord” (Ephesians 5:8,10). But when we did, we knew they were written for people like us. And it was really what (under the Holy Spirit’s guidance) we had already been doing — trying to find out what pleased God.

We joined a church and learned of people doing great things for Jesus. We heard of the Great Harvest, donated money to missions and prayed fervently for those who had given their lives to take the gospel to the ends of the earth.

We took stock of our lives. With five children (two daughters of mine from a previous marriage, and now three sons — Joshua Gabriel, Matthew Raphael, and Benjamin Michael — God must have given us their names before we knew Him!), we lived in one of the most affluent counties in the United States, a place where only 4 percent of the population attends church, and New Age ideas and liberal politics abound.

Surely we needed to live somewhere else — somewhere conservative and cozy, filled with families like ours. “Lord,” we prayed, “let us move to the Bible Belt!”

Then there was the problem of our business. In the true spirit of American enterprise, Tripp had started with a chainsaw and climbing saddle, and had built a successful company with 25 employees — learning along the way to navigate the labyrinth of taxes, insurance requirements and government regulations. We were way too comfortable financially. “Lord,” we prayed, “help us find something more useful to do for You.”

Getting wind of our plans to sell our business, a pastor urged us to reconsider. He said God had given us a “ministry of finance.” Besides, God wasn’t answering our prayers anyway. We decided our calling was to be worker bees, making money to give to others to spread the good news.

It was humbling to accept that we might never do great things for the Lord. We settled in, studied the Word, lived as children of light, and kept looking for ways to please God.
My task has been simple. I homeschooled the children for many years — training up new little souls for the kingdom.

My husband’s task has been more complex.

In 1990, when work got tight and layoffs threatened Mr. Trees, Tripp began praying with our employees in the mornings. “Lord, we thank You for the work You have given us and pray that You will continue to give us work.” At first the men were embarrassed, but Tripp was sincere. And each day God was faithful to provide work for all.

Soon the men stood a tree trunk upright and sawed it at an angle — a gift for my husband — a pulpit from which he could “preach.” It became a morning ritual to pray together for work, for injured employees and for family members who were ill.

When employees had problems with drugs or alcohol, Tripp intervened. When their marriages were shaky, we babysat for their kids and sent them to a Christian marriage conference. There was so much more to do than we had thought!

And then there were the thousand people a year Tripp met who knew nothing about trees. (Most of them knew nothing about Jesus, either!) They’d confide in my confidence-inspiring husband the heartaches inside their beautifully landscaped homes — marital problems, rebellious teens, medical and emotional traumas … so much sadness. Tripp would simply ask,

“May I pray with you?”

“Yes,” they’d say.

That’s all he did — just took them into God’s presence and showed them how to talk to the One with all the answers, the One with the power to bring them into the light.

Thus we discovered that we didn’t need to go anywhere special or do anything extraordinary to serve the Lord. He had already planted us where He wanted us — we only needed to look around. In terms of a mission field, there’s no place like home.

“I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest” (John 4:35b).