Last week, I was walking through the park when the snow started falling.
Not the gentle, Christmas-card kind—the real Pennsylvania kind that means business.
Big, wet flakes that soaked through my coat.
That’s when I spotted this magnificent American Holly tree.
The thing was huge—probably forty feet tall with branches that spread out like a protective umbrella.
And here’s what stopped me cold: everywhere else, the snow was piling up on benches and bare tree branches. But underneath that Holly tree? Bone dry.
I stood there for a moment, watching the snow fall all around me while this evergreen canopy created a perfect circle of shelter.
The leaves were so thick and waxy, the snow just slid right off. It was like standing under God’s own umbrella.
Sometimes His protection is as simple as knowing where to stand.
The Evergreen Heart: Faith That Stays Green
You know what struck me most about that Holly tree? Sure, there were other evergreens around—pine trees and such—but the Holly had something different.
While the maples stood bare and the oaks looked like skeletons, this Holly was absolutely vibrant. Thick, glossy leaves that practically gleamed against the gray winter sky.
But not the Holly. It stood there in all its glossy, defiant greenness, like it was personally offended by winter’s attempt to drain the life out of everything.
That’s when Hosea 14:8 came flooding back to me: “I am like a flourishing juniper; your fruitfulness comes from me.” God actually compares Himself to an evergreen tree.
Not a delicate flower that wilts at the first frost. Not a deciduous tree that goes bare when times get tough. An evergreen—constant, reliable, always full of life.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because, honestly, I’ve been in a bit of a winter season myself.
You know those times when everything feels gray and dormant? When your prayer life feels as bare as those oak branches?
When you’re going through the motions but wondering where all the joy went?
My husband Vic went through a really tough recovery after his surgery last year. Four operations in two years.
There were nights I’d sit by his hospital bed, staring out at the parking lot lights, feeling like my faith had gone as barren as January.
But here’s what I’m learning: God doesn’t ask us to manufacture our own spiritual spring. He doesn’t expect us to fake being green when everything around us feels dead. Instead, He says, “I am your evergreen. Your life comes from Me.”
Jesus put it this way in John 15:5: “I am the vine; you are the branches.” The branch doesn’t have to figure out how to stay green on its own.
It just has to stay connected to the vine. The life flows from the source.
I remember one particularly hard night during Vic’s recovery when I was feeling completely dried up.
I opened my Bible to that passage about the vine and branches, and I literally whispered, “Jesus, I don’t feel very green right now.”
And you know what? It was like He whispered back, “That’s okay. I’ve got enough green for both of us.”
There’s such a difference between circumstantial happiness and deep-rooted joy. Happiness depends on what’s happening around us—good health, smooth relationships, and financial security.
But joy? Joy is like that Holly tree’s greenness. It comes from being rooted in something that doesn’t change with the seasons.
That’s what I love about evergreen faith. It’s not about feeling joyful every moment. It’s about being connected to the One who is joy.
Some days I feel as vibrant as those Holly leaves.
Other days I feel more like those bare oak branches. But my feelings don’t determine my spiritual reality. My connection to Jesus does.
When our son Michael was going through his teenage struggles a few years back, I used to worry that my faith wasn’t strong enough to help him. I felt like such a spiritual failure some days.
But then I’d remember that Holly tree—how it doesn’t strain to stay green, it just draws from deep roots and stays connected to its source.
God’s grace keeps our hearts evergreen even when our circumstances feel like the dead of winter.
Crown of Thorns, Drops of Grace
But there’s something else about Holly trees that gives me chills every time I think about it. Those beautiful, protective leaves?
They’re covered in sharp, spiny edges. Tiny thorns that can draw blood if you’re not careful.
I actually touched one of those Holly leaves the other day, just to feel those spines. They’re surprisingly sharp—nothing like the soft leaves of summer plants.
And as I stood there with a tiny prick on my finger, I couldn’t help but think about another crown made of thorns.
For centuries, Christians have looked at Holly and seen the crown of thorns pressed onto Jesus’ head.
Those spiky leaves, so protective and beautiful, become a reminder of His suffering.
And those bright red berries that appear in winter? They’ve long been symbols of the blood He shed for our salvation.
It’s kind of amazing when you think about it. What we see as protection—those sharp leaves that keep the tree safe from being eaten by deer—becomes a picture of what protected us. Jesus’ crown of thorns, His suffering, His blood—that’s what purchased our safety.
There’s this beautiful paradox in the Holly tree. The very thing that makes it look dangerous—those thorns—is what keeps it safe.
And the very thing that looked like defeat for Jesus—the cross, the crown of thorns, the blood—is what became our victory.
I love that old legend about Holly trees hiding the baby Jesus from Herod’s soldiers.
The story goes that in gratitude, Jesus blessed the Holly to stay evergreen forever, always full of life and shelter.
Now, I know that’s just folklore, but there’s something true in it. Jesus’ sacrifice did create a permanent shelter for us.
Colossians 3:3 says we are “hidden with Christ in God.” That’s our Holly tree moment—we’re safe under His protection, not because we’re strong enough to weather the storm, but because He took the full force of it for us.
When I was walking under that Holly tree during the snowstorm, I was completely dry and protected. Not because I had an umbrella.
Not because I was particularly prepared. But because something else had already taken the brunt of the weather for me.
That’s exactly what Jesus did. He stood in the storm of God’s wrath against sin so we could stand in the shelter of His grace. Those thorns that crowned His head became the protective canopy over our souls.
Sometimes when I’m having a hard day—when the bills are piling up or I’m worried about Michael or I’m just feeling overwhelmed—I try to remember that I’m standing under the Holly tree.
The storm might be raging all around me, but I’m hidden with Christ in God. The thorns that wounded Him are the very things that keep me safe.
What beautiful, painful, protective love.
Standing Under Grace
So here’s my prayer for both of us today: God, keep our hearts evergreen through all seasons.
When the storms of life come—and they will come—help us remember we’re always standing under Your protection.
The next time you see a Holly tree, think about those protective leaves and remember: you’re hidden with Christ in God, safe under the shelter of His grace.