The Tree and the Shadow

Imagine walking into a large auditorium. The lights are low, and at the back of the stage stands a magnificent Christmas tree. It rises twenty feet tall, covered in thousands of twinkling white and colored lights, golden tinsel, shimmering ornaments, and a glowing star at the very top. The tree is alive with beauty. Its warm glow fills the room and draws every eye. The scent of fresh pine drifts through the air.

Yet just to the left of the tree, a harsh spotlight throws a sharp, flat shadow onto the wall. The same tree — same shape, same reaching branches — appears there in grey silhouette. No color. No sparkle. No life. Only an outline.

You stand in the aisle, caught between the two.

This is the picture that will guide us through the next thirty-one days.

In this devotional we call our present life **Chapter 1**. Here we see both the decorated tree — the beauty, order, and wonder of existence — and its shadow: the limits of our minds, our bodies, our senses, and our years. We catch glimpses of deeper reality, but much of it remains

filtered, like the flat silhouette on the wall.

**Chapter 2** is the life that comes after we set this body aside like a well-used jacket. In that chapter the spotlight is gone. The filters fall away. We will look back (or simply know) and say with a quiet smile, “Man… it was right there in front of me the whole time.”

Throughout these days we will return often to the feeling of something being **on the tip of your tongue**. You know the sensation: a word, a name, or a deep truth hovers right there — you can almost taste it, almost speak it — but it slips away before you can fully grasp or express it. That is the ache and the hope of Chapter 1. We are given brief moments of crystal clarity, then the knowing fades back into shadow, leaving only an impression that

continues to work quietly inside us.

One restless afternoon the author was driving up a winding mountain highway. Music played from the car’s playlist. Halfway to the summit, with forest pressing close and the inlet beginning to open below, everything suddenly became crystal clear. Existence itself made perfect sense. Tears filled his eyes. For those few moments the tree and its shadow were no longer separate. Then, just as quickly, the knowing slipped away. He was left with the impression — and a weight that never fully left. That moment birthed the search that led to this book.

These thirty-one days are an invitation to stand with the author in that auditorium. We will look honestly at both the glowing tree and its shadow. We will follow the

logic of necessary truths toward the Necessary Being who grounds them. We will feel the ache of limitation and the longing it awakens. And day by day we will gently train our hearts to anticipate the coming of Chapter 2 — the never-ending story that only gets better.

You do not need to solve every mystery in these pages. You only need to keep showing up, noticing both the beauty and the shadow, and allowing the impression to do its quiet work.

Welcome to the auditorium. The tree is still glowing. The shadow is still teaching. And Chapter 2 is closer than it feels.