The Carpenter’s Tree - By Megan Whitley

The Carpenter’s Tree 

I stood tall until I was cut down.

Stood united until cut apart.  

They made two large pieces of lumber from my wood, and stored them for a later date. 

The scraps left over were sold to an innkeeper in a little town called Bethlehem. 

He needed a manger, a place to put hay for his animals. I suppose it was a better fate than becoming firewood. 

I stood like that for a while. Getting older and more mildewy. Then one day, an interesting development occurred. A family of humans stopped by the barn. There was a lot of screaming. Then a loud cry. Then the very fibers of my being shook. The life that remained inside of me cried out praise as a child was laid in my frame. The Son of God. Emmanuel. I could tell because He radiated life. But He was scared, He was cold, He was tired. I was confused. How could God be tired? How could He cry? 

The family did not stay long. They moved on, and took My Lord with them. I still do not understand why God was so small, so fragile. He had to be carried. He had to be bathed. And He had to move on. The manger stayed, remembering the gift of God it had held. 

My two large pieces of lumber were stored away for many years. Until they were pulled out, and nailed together. It felt unnatural, to have my lumber nailed to itself, with the grain running in opposite directions. But I could not deny I felt I had a heavy duty to bear. I was important. 

One day, an interesting development occurred. A group of humans stood outside the palace gates. There was a lot of screaming. And loud cries for “justice”. The very fibers of my being shook. This time in fear.

They nailed a man to my frame. With His arms stretched out in surrender.  The life that remained inside of me cried out praise for the man that hung on my frame. The Son of God. Emmanuel. I could tell because He radiated life. But He was scared, He was cold, He was tired. He was in pain. I was confused. Why would God let Himself be in pain? Why would He cry? And why, oh why in the world would He let them do this to Him?

Emmanuel cried out. Forgiveness. How could He forgive them for this?

His life was finished.

I stood on that hill in shame for three days. Then He returned. Walked past the places they had crucified Him and smiled. Patted me twice as he passed. “Well done.” Maybe I’m hearing things, maybe I’m not. Then He looked out over the hill on which His people had betrayed Him and sang praises to His Father in Heaven. Then quietly, humbly, with almighty power, He walked back down the hill, to those people. 

And I praised God for the blessing it was to carry His Son twice.