At the Movies: The Hidden Life of Trees

In front of our house, there are three different types of trees—a Crimson King Norway maple, a Japanese maple, and a red dogwood. They’ve been residents at our address for quite a while now, probably near as long as the house itself, and so they’ve grown up together, transplanted from some faraway nursery into this landscape.

In the last seven years, I’ve assumed my three trees are fighting for canopy space, but what I’ve learned in the last few years about trees has made me reassess my assumptions. My trees aren’t competitive. They’re cooperative.

The Hidden Life of Trees

Based on the book of the same name by Peter Wohlleben, the documentary The Hidden Life of Trees showcases some of the amazing discoveries about trees and the forests where they so often live. 

Wohlleben points out how trees in the woods live together with their children, nurture them and feed them, communicate with them and their neighbors about diseases and pests, and even make room for each other as they grow. Trees will time up their seed production with other trees of the same species to ensure there’s more than enough seeds to keep their species going. Trees rely on and use an underground “wood wide web” built of root systems and fungal mycelial networks. They will even send nutrients to the stump of a long-fallen log to help it stay alive.

The hidden life of trees is an interconnected community of relational beings that we’re just beginning to comprehend. This new knowledge comes at a critical point in our history as more and more virgin forests are clear-cut and leveled, replaced with industrial rows of monoculture trees. But ecological forestry plays the long game in a world of on-demand production, and that’s a hard battle to win.

Packed with time lapse and quiet, moving footage of the slow beauty of the woods, The Hidden Life of Trees will change the way you look at forests and forestry. It just might turn you into a tree hugger, like me.

Finding the Love: Faithifying Your Viewing

When Jesus addressed the anxieties and worries of the people who were following him, he told them, “Consider the lilies.” Look at the natural world around you, the world that God lovingly and carefully created, and you will catch glimpses of the character of God.

Jesus loved to tell stories to communicate truths about the kingdom of God. He looked at the world around his followers and said, “Look at the world with me; let me show you all of the places God has hidden his purpose and love.”

If God so loved the lilies of the field, decorating them so beautifully, how much more will he provide for you? If God so loved the birds of the air, making sure they are fed and cared for, how much more will be take care of you?

When we listen closely to and observe the natural world, God opens a doorway into wonder, gratitude, and love. So it is with the trees.

In the last few weeks, an oak tree next to our house has dropped thousands—not kidding, thousands—of acorns. At the same time, my church has been participating in a communal discernment process to catch a vision for where the Lord is leading us next. 

In this season, the oak tree has taught me trust. The oaks don’t wait until they know for sure that this acorn is the one that will stand the test of time. The oaks don’t conduct a feasibility study before dropping their seeds. The oaks simply talk to each other and decide together that this is the season for abundance. This is the season to take risks and pour energy into the next generation of oaks, trusting that some will take root, knowing that many will not, and leaning into the good, hard work they’ve been designed to do in this particular season.

The oak tree has also taught me about patience and rootedness. A seedling in the forest stays small for a long time, tucked in the undergrowth of its parent. But that doesn’t mean it suffers. It just grows slowly. One of the trees in The Hidden Life of Trees took ten years to grow as tall as a man, but in that same time, it stretched its roots in a 20 foot diameter, securing and establishing itself in the surrounding network of familial roots that can and will communicate with it, protect it, and provide for it until the day a limb above breaks, light pours through, and the sapling stretches to fill the light.

So many of the choices I make today have consequences for future generations that I will never even see. And yet the forest—and the God who shaped it—challenges me to lift my eyes to that future and work for it. I need to see the forest and the trees, my personal future and the future of my kids, neighbors, and global community.

It’s easy to look upon nature for its anthropomorphic and theological metaphors and then walk away, feeling good about the lessons we’ve learned. But God calls us to more than that. God planted us in the garden that he already made and invited us to work and tend it, lovingly caring for the creation he lovingly made. It isn’t enough to just be grateful. In the spirit of reciprocity that loving your neighbor requires, creation care is our way of thanking creation for the gifts of metaphor, in addition to all of the other gifts creation gives us.

The more we learn about the forests and the trees, the better we’re able to care for them, give them the space and rest they need to thrive, and continue to benefit from the gifts they provide. God has packed so much into the soil, forest, and world for us to explore. The Hidden Life of Trees is just one more window into that world.