Standing’s machete whistled through the air, embedding itself in a charred tree trunk with a dull thunk. Again and again, the blade dug into the wood, sending chips flying in all directions.

Standing doesn’t do things in halves. This tree had managed to survive the fire he had set to clear his new mountain farm. It had to go, and there was no use dawdling.

Suddenly Standing heard a loud crack. Glancing up, he saw the charred top quarter of the tree hurtling down toward his head. The weakened wood had given way under the vibrations of his vigorous whacking. There was no time to dive out of the way. In that microsecond, all Standing could do was cry out, “Father!” In that instant, the heavy section of log split in two just above his head, and the two halves crashed into the ground on either side of him, vibrating like a guitar string from the force of the impact.

Standing still doesn’t do things in halves. In church last Sabbath, he stood up and praised God for His deliverance with the same vigor he had used in chopping down that tree. There is no doubt in his mind that His God is real and does real things for His people.

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