First CHRISTMAS TREE
AKA "Life, the way I planned vs God's plan" A tiny seed swept with the wind lit softly on the ground, I'm insignificant it thought, I did not make a sound. If I could be a mighty spruce with branches reaching high, All trimmed in lights I'd point to God, a beacon toward the sky. The seedling grew into a sprout, a twig, and then a tree, As woodsmen came it always thought, I hope they don't cut me. But then one dawn below it's limbs it heard the woodsman say, This one is strong and tall and straight, we'll cut it down today. It crashed upon the forest floor, a tree now in it's prime. No more a tiny seed it thought, "they heard me fall this time!" I wonder what they'll make of me so strong and tall and straight. Surely they have plans for me, I'm going to be great! They slid the tree into a cave and fashioned there a trough, and then they filled it up with hay, they pulled down from the loft. The tree thought, I was better off when I was still a seed. Why now I'm just a manger, where sheep and cattle feed. There was one chilly night that I shall treasure every day, when a kindly lad and sweet young girl laid a babe within my hay. But now those days are past and men have come again for wood. They said this stable's damp and old, but the lumber here's still good. The carpenter's been gone two years, now he wants to build a house. A place to raise his children and a shelter for his spouse. So I became their dwelling place, the oldest son, I watched him grow, and though I can't explain it, I think I held him long ago. Now the house is gone. I'm a heap of wood, once graced by children's feet, but all's not lost, I may become a boat, for a fisherman called Pete. He said these boards are perfect. They're strong and tall and straight. I'll build a boat, and mend my nets, and fill'er up with bait! Peter's crude and rough. I'll ne're be famous, as he pilots me to sea, and then I heard a familiar voice, "Peter, come and follow me." He stepped into my hull and as I held him there I knew, I'm sure I've held this one before, and his feet, I've felt them too. As years past by I heard him speak and calm both wind and wave. From me he preached to crowds on shore. In me he slept and prayed. May be for Him, God made me grow, a tree, strong, straight, and tall, Maybe because of Him, I will be famous after all! But alas, for me 'twas not my fate, for boats, they come and go. The fisherman get newer ones, and I was just too slow. Don't pine for me, it's not so bad, I've been a heap of wood. This time they stacked my timbers high, at least the view is good. Then one dark night they came again, with lanterns and swords. I heard them say, just straight and strong, we want the tallest boards. I wonder where they're taking me, it's dark, I'm at a loss. To my dismay and anguish, they're making me a cross. If I could only be a seed so helpless and so small, I'd ne're again complain and say, I wish that I was tall. I know what they use crosses for, I've been around for years. I've seen the pain and heartache, the cruelty and the tears. And now I stand atop a hill. Set high for all to see. Disgraced and shamed, and stained with blood. They still call me a tree. Rage and anger welled within me, the forest's best, if they only knew! Then a voice spoke strong but calm, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do." I thought I'd felt these hands before, they had grasped me through the hay. These feet, they pattered on my floor, this voice, the winds would stay. This one had graced me as he preached salvation on the shore. And now upon me he would die. I could bear to be no more. But as I thought upon his words, "for they know not what they do." What was happening, was there something here, that I did not know too? A cross, a dreadful fate for any self-respecting tree. But I was not just any cross. Jesus bore your sins on me. I never would have guessed how God, my path would lead, nor how that He would answer prayer, when I was just a seed. I wanted to grow big and tall and point to God above. And now I know that on my cross God gave to us His Love. Return To Index |