The Tree That Refused to Quit – Stuart Segall

On a mist-covered hillside stands a tree that should not be alive. Its trunk is split, hollowed, and weather-scarred, the kind of wound that usually marks the end of a story. For years, it must have been dismissed as a lost cause, a remnant of what once stood tall. Anyone passing by could be forgiven for assuming its life was over.

But then something unexpected happened. From the very place where the trunk was torn open, a new evergreen began to rise. Small, improbable, and stubborn, it grew out of the scar itself. Not as a replacement for what was lost, and not as a return to former strength, but as a quiet declaration that life still had something to say.

Its future is uncertain. A storm may take it. A hard winter may be too much. But longevity isn’t the point. The miracle is not how long it lasts; the miracle is that it appeared at all. That it dared to grow again. It chose life when everything around it suggested the story had reached its final chapter.

I love a story like this because it reminds me of myself. Fallen, written off by many, viewed like a monument or a “standing stone”. Battered… but look what matters. Life. A comeback, even if only for a season. A second chance that doesn’t need to be permanent to be real, authentic, and committed.

When I look at this tree, I see the places where I’ve been split open. The seasons when others assumed I was finished. The moments when I believed it myself. Yet somehow, from the very wound that should have ended me, something new began to grow. Not triumphant, not flashy, oh no, not all, just real. Just alive.

“I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.” — Joel 2:25

This is a promise spoken into loss, not that the past will be erased, but that God can bring life out of what looked wasted, broken, or gone for good. It carries the same heartbeat as this tree: there is still time for new branches, still time for green, still time for a comeback, even if only for a season.

So, I remind myself: If God waits, then I can wait. If God doesn’t rush to declare a life finished, then neither should I. Dale Carnegie’s words settle into that truth like a steadying hand: “Even God doesn’t propose to judge a man till his last days, why should you and I?”

And Scripture echoes the same mercy: “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree; they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon. Planted in the house of the Lord, they will flourish in the courts of our God.” Psalm 92:12–13

Cedars grow through storms. Palms bend without breaking. And sometimes, a new tree grows out of an old wound.

This is the quiet miracle of endurance: not that the scar disappears, but that it becomes a cradle for new life. Once this tree had a huge setback. It was judged a goner, but in time it showed up the naysayers. Battered… but look what matters. Life.

And here is the deeper lesson: the importance of withholding judgment and extending understanding and empathy to others. Even God waits until the whole story is told. How much more should we, with our limited vision, choose compassion over condemnation?

I am forever grateful for those who have done this for me, those who saw possibility where others saw failure, who waited when others walked away, who believed there might still be life in me. And I am dedicated to doing the same for others. Because sometimes all a person needs is the space to grow again from the place that broke them.

The day I wrote this was Resurrection Day, the ultimate comeback, not for a season but for eternity.

Contributing to many of the resources offered by Plain Truth Ministries, including the CWR blog, Stuart Segall writes from the state of Washington.  He has spent most of his adult life counseling, encouraging, inspiring and uplifting others.