The Tree

God looked down on the virgin land,
And rollicking sea.
The earth was but an infant,
Bare and vulnerable.

“Let vegetation come forth”, he said.

Grass, flowers and trees,
Plants for food,
Plants for shelter.

God put his finger print in the soil.
And gently planted each blade of grass
And admired their movement in the breeze.

He carefully set each fragile flower,
And paused with pleasure as He engulfed
Their fragrance.

God’s hands embraced each tree.
Admiring the trunk for its strength.
Each branch with nourishment for the leaves,
He smiled on.
But He hesitated, as He touched the wood.

And in the mind of the finite,
Flashed the words “One Day”.

When God completed His world,
With creatures of every kind,
He announced to the universe that “it was good”.

He then gave life to man and woman
and placed them in a garden.

The Heavenly Son looked at His Father
and they said “It is very good”.

Two trees stood in the midst of the garden,
One for knowledge,
One for life.
Attractive,
Beneficial,
Desirable.

One day the Spirit warned,
From the arms of a tree
The voice of temptation will be uttered.
“Do this – be Wise
God didn’t mean . . . ”

The enemy taunted,
The fruit of the tree,
Take and eat,
Know good and evil.

Deceived.
Distance.
Death.

The fruit of the tree in human hands,
The hope of life out of their reach

Generations of trees,
Generations of men and women,

living
dying
living
dying

One day,
An axe broke the bark of a tree,
And cut into the flesh of the tree,
A tree strong, majestic.
And again the axe slashed the tree,
Bringing it down to the ground.

Roughly cut,
Crudely assembled.
That tree’s humble destiny – a feed box for cattle

One night,
Outside the noise and bustle of a little town,
A baby was born and sheltered,
New life was held in the wooden arms of a manger.

The baby boy grew and learned,
Watched his father’s skilful hands hold the wood,
As he crafted with his tools.
Often he would step back and admire his work and proclaim “Good!”

Someplace,
Somehow,
There were memories for the boy,
Of another time,
Of another Father.
Who shaped the trees in his hands
Who delighted in creating the wood.

The boy grew and became a man.

Amid the cries and jeers,
Within the city walls,
He was judged,
Beaten and mocked.
He stumbled under,
A heavy wooden beam on his shoulders,
As the crowd pressed on,
To the hill beyond.

tears
cheers
cries
taunts
A life facing death
stripped
exposed
body bleeding

“Crucify Him”,
The crowd sang out, to the beat on the metal nails.

cold
course
through warm flesh
into the dry wood

life
death

The wooden cross raised high the dying form

Had God known?
Had God known that the tree he created,
Would become the cross?!

The cross lowered,
The body entombed.

darkness
distance
death

New life 3 days later.
The Father had remembered.

Why do you look for the living
among the dead?

He is alive

He is the way, the truth and the life.

He is the way to the tree of life

Take and eat
And live.