The Hidden Power of Termites — When Tiny Things Bring Down Giants
🪵 “Sometimes what looks strong on the outside has already been hollowed out within.”
One day, I was driving to drop off a few things at the dumpster. Nothing unusual — just a quick stop before getting back to the day’s rhythm. But something caught my attention.
There, close to the dumpster, stood what was left of a huge tree. It had been cut down — cleanly, deliberately. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But when I went closer, I noticed the tiny holes and powdery dust scattered along the wood. No termites in sight. Just the remnants of their visit — silent evidence that they had once called this tree home.
That tree had clearly been strong once. Tall. Wide. A quiet giant. But over time, termites had found it. They had eaten away at its core, leaving it hollow and weak. The rain and erosion had done the rest — and now it stood lifeless, leaning slightly on a slope, no longer able to hold itself upright. It wasn’t cut down because someone disliked it. It was cut down because someone recognized what had already happened within it.
Termites had long gone, but their traces remained — and with each rainfall, the slope beneath it slowly gave way. It was only a matter of time before that once-great tree would collapse. And considering how close it stood to the apartment complex, the cost of doing nothing would have been far greater than the cost of cutting it down.
Sometimes, the cost of ignoring small damage is far greater than the pain of early intervention.
I stood there thinking — how many of us are like that tree?
Still standing.
Still upright.
Still appearing strong.
But hollowed out on the inside by things that no one sees anymore.
Not because the pain, the disappointment, or the hurt are still happening —but because the remnants of what once ate at us remain.
Old patterns.
Old fears.
Old stories that left holes in our confidence and dust in our foundation.
No termites now. Just their evidence.
And yet, the damage still speaks.
Sometimes the most loving thing to do — for yourself or for what you’re building — is to cut something down before it collapses. Not every ending is a loss. Some are preventive acts of wisdom. That tree was cut down to protect what stood around it. Likewise, there are times when God allows something in us — a relationship, a mindset, a season — to be removed. Not because we’re being punished, but because what once hosted life has now become hollow, unsafe, or misaligned. It’s mercy disguised as loss.
Termites are small, but their strength lies in their organization, intent, and persistence. They don’t stop until their work is done. And yet, even in their absence, their mark remains. It made me realize — if such tiny creatures could bring down a giant tree, then imagine what could happen if we brought the same focus, organization, and persistence to our healing, our growth, and our purpose.
If destruction can leave a legacy, so can restoration.
Here are a couple of questions for you:
What evidence of “old termites” still lingers in your life — quiet remnants of what once ate at your strength?
And what would it look like to let God, wisdom, and courage do the cutting before life does it for you?
You take yourself everywhere you go; you might as well take care of yourself!
Hadassah,
The end matters, finish strong.
