Hello friends,
It’s me again! Just popping into your inbox to say hello. Today we will discuss poetry and prophecy. Let’s get into it!
📌 In This Edition…
- In The Woods: What is it about nature and poetry??
- Learning to Breathe: Yes, I am a slow learner…
- Reflection Questions: These are for my wife…
- A Blessing: Just receive it, y’all!
🌲In The Woods
A few weeks ago, I went to the Red River Gorge with a friend from my house church. I have not backpacked or camped in the Backcountry in well over a decade—and let me tell ya, it ain’t exactly like riding a bike! For one thing, I was using a women’s sleeping bag (Which, frankly, someone might have to explain to me why sleeping bags are gendered… You don’t hear people say, “would you like a men’s towel?” or “women’s blanket?”) I also over-packed (mainly because I am a creature of luxurious comforts). Additionally, I am not in peak fitness shape for hiking (but I am still A shape, which should count for somethin’!).
Needless to say, we made it to the top (breathless and sweaty) in the early evening—just enough time to set up camp, collect some firewood, and cook dinner on the cliff-side overlooking 270 degrees of horizon as the sun set behind us. Once the darkness settled in, we sipped hot chocolate and looked up at the most stars I have ever seen—even catching a few shooting across the sky! We relocated up near our tents, got a fire going, and sat in the stillness—no phones, no to-do lists, no noise but the hum of the crickets and the wind snagged in the trees—the gentle flicker of the firelight (and the occasional hellish screaming from a murderous pack of savage coyotes…)
Coyotes aside, it was solacing and deeply reviving. It has been a long season of illness, loss, and sleepless nights at our house and I didn’t realize how thin my soul had stretched until I finally let the quiet hold me. Like, it wasn’t until I finally exhaled that I realized how much I’d been holding my breath.
Lying on my back (on my preposterously large sleeping pad), breathing in the crisp autumnal air, I thought about Wendell Berry’s poem The Peace of Wild Things—that line about coming “into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.” That night in the woods, I felt that peace—the deep kind that doesn’t come from fixing or understanding everything, but from remembering that God is still holding everything.
Sipping my coffee the next morning, watching the sun rise, I thought about a line from Emerson’s essay Nature that I read back in college. “In the woods, we return to reason and faith.”
When I got home, I looked it up and read this section over and over.
“In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith.”
Emerson uses “plantations of God” to describe the wilderness as a sacred and restful place where the soul returns to its source, rooted in the divine order rather than in human striving. It is rejuvenating. It is refreshing. After my brief encounter with the wilderness (including those noxious coyotes), I can say, he ain’t wrong!
But in the last week, I started thinking more about that phrase “plantations of God” and the seed/tree/harvest/fruit analogies that are everywhere in scripture. It made me think of Psalm 1:3, and being like a tree planted by streams of water. Then I recalled the phrase “oaks of righteousness” and re-read the beginning of Isaiah 61. Feeble, uneducated man that I am, I cannot improve upon the words of Isaiah, so I will just share them directly. This is Isaiah speaking to a people broken by Babylonian exile.
The Year of the Lord’s Favor
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to give them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
that he may be glorified.
I mean, this is simply stunning. Israel had been conquered, their land ravaged, their temple destroyed, and their identity shattered. They were living under foreign rule in a foreign land, carrying deep wounds of loss and despair and shame. Into that devastation, Isaiah breathes life and announces hope: God will restore, rebuild, and renew His people. But it’s also so much more than that! He is announcing spiritual renewal and freedom from the power and oppression of sin! “A planting of the Lord that he may be glorified”!
Isaiah was declaring God as the true owner of all things—that His desire is freedom and restoration and renewal. Isaiah is saying: that kind of liberation is coming again—but deeper and fuller and forever. He was looking forward to that future King, that Prince of Shalom, and to a reign of Shalom with no end (Isaiah 9:6).
Fast forward to Luke 4. Jesus stands up in the synagogue in Nazareth on the Sabbath day, unrolls the scroll of Isaiah, and reads this portion of Isaiah 61. Then, (shortest sermon ever), he says, “Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” This was a radical mic-drop moment. Jesus is declaring Himself the anointed one, the Messiah, who brings the Year of the Lord’s Favor to the whole world. In Him, prisoners are freed, the blind are given sight, and the brokenhearted are comforted. This is so much deeper than external circumstances, it’s about total and complete restoration—shalom—returning to wholeness what has been broken.
This is what Jesus was all about. That’s why he said in John 14:27, “Shalom I leave you, My shalom I give to you; but not as the world gives! Let not your heart be troubled or afraid.” The most basic meaning of the word Shalom is complete or whole. (Watch this Bible Project video for a fuller picture).
When Jesus declared Isaiah’s prophecy fulfilled, He was essentially saying: the plantations of God have begun to grow again. The soil of the world, hardened by sin and sorrow—is breaking open under the rain of mercy and reign of shalom. THAT is the Good News! The favor of God is no longer a far-off promise, it’s a living reality in every heart that yields to His hand.
🌬 Learning to Breathe
I know that if you are reading this line, there’s a pretty good chance that you are an expert breather. Well done, you!
But I was thinking about breathing recently—and how our breathing can reveal so much about us and where we are in life. Are we breathless from running around, doing everything everywhere all at once? Are we holding our breath because we are on the verge of going under—of drowning? Is it shallow, panicked, anxiety-laced breathing? Shaky, fearful breathing? Or does our breathing look or sound like someone who is deeply resting—slow, even, measured, rhythmic? Think about the words of Psalm 23, and try to imagine David’s breathing as he wrote them.
In the woods, stepping outside of the noise and demands of every day life, I could feel myself breathe again. Being surrounded by trees and stars, I remembered that they don’t rush or contend—they just are. They do not tax their lives with forethought of grief, they simply grow where they are planted or shine where they are placed. Their hearts are not troubled or afraid (true, they also don’t pay taxes or have jobs, but you get my point!)
That is the shalom Jesus spoke of in John 14—He’s trying to give it to you right now. Can’t you hear him whispering to you in that quiet place, “Be still. Sink your roots deeper, draw your strength from me. You don’t have to force fruit, just stay planted. I will take care of you. Let me carry your load. I see your grief. I see your mourning. I see your despair. I see your pain. I see your sickness. This will not last forever. I am coming back and I will fix every broken thing and wipe away every tear and make all things new. Hold on to me. Trust me. There is eternal glory and it’s coming. Do not be afraid.” Maybe that’s what David meant when he said, “He restores my soul.”
Man, I don’t know how that strikes you, but simply writing those words, hearing Jesus speak that over me, just absolutely broke me to tears. As I typed that out, I just started sobbing. I think my soul needed that reminder.
🌾 Reflection Questions
Now, I know that the reality is, less than 1 percent of my audience will read this post and immediately go camping in the woods and look at stars—that is not a reality for some and that is clearly not the point. But, are there small ways that you can reflect on your breathing and on your roots? Can you find or make the time to take a few extra moments in your morning or evening to sit on your porch and breathe?
I said these questions are for my wife because she loves answering reflection questions. So, I am including some questions so that if you are like Katie, you can take some time to reflect on a few things this week.
- How is your breathing in this season? What does your breathing reveal to you?
- Where do you feel most at peace or most aware of God’s presence?
- Where in your life do you sense God inviting you to be replanted—to return to His soil of rest and renewal? Is He inviting you to stay, grow, or trust His timing for this season?
- How might you become part of God’s “plantations”—nurturing others, restoring what’s been broken, or cultivating peace where there’s been exhaustion? Are you rooted in faith, rooted in community, and rooted in renewal?
- When was the last time you felt that “year of the Lord’s favor” in your life—that deep exhale of grace? What has been stealing your rest lately?
- When was the last time you noticed something beautiful in nature and let it slow you down? If it’s been a minute, how can you make room, even in small ways, to “return to the peace of wild things”?
🛠 Windows and Door!
This is turning into quite the cozy spot. I’ve even already gotten some use out of the porch this fall!
✨ A Blessing
May you find a patch of quiet earth and reap
A blessing from your roots as they sink deep.
May you look upon the stars and keep in mind—
That even those with sight can still be blind.
An oak of righteousness is who you are,
Despite the wounds you carry—every scar.
Through every tear of mourning—every groan,
To Him who holds it all, you're deeply known.
The brokenhearted, He will bind them up.
His peace He gives, an overflowing cup.
Stop striving, fighting—anxious toil—stressing,
Just breathe out thanks and hold His endless blessing.
You are the Beloved.
🔭 Looking Ahead
Writing Goals for Next Month:
- Title and Subtitle finalized
- Book outline completed
(yes, I didn’t quite finish those in October… *sigh*. BUT, I am meeting with a writing coach the first week of November to get myself over the hump! Then it’s full steam ahead, baby! I am still on schedule for my book to come out in November 2026!)
Don’t forget to breathe this week!
With gratitude,
David
DAVID SCOT MUSSER 