Children

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Until recently, the first thing I could remember was falling. I fell from a great height down to the Earth and died. I was buried in the soft brown soil near a spring. But dying was not the end, it was a new beginning. New life sprang up within me. I poked my head up out of the soil to view the world around me. I had fallen to Earth a seed, now I was a tree - a very small tree, but I would grow.

As the years passed I spread my branches wide over the small spring, which was near the main road to Jerusalem. I saw many poor, sick, and suffering people on their way to Jerusalem and I was glad for each opportunity to give shade and rest to a weary traveler.

One day, a caravan stopped at the spring, travelers from Nazareth on their way to Jerusalem for the Passover. A group of men gathered and a young man, a boy really, not more than twelve years old, began to speak. The boy was teaching with such wisdom and authority that even the oldest and wisest of the men could only sit and listen.

The boy looked up at me and a light seemed to sparkle in his eyes, as if he recognized me. I didn’t remember ever seeing him before, yet somehow I felt that I knew him too. He turned to speak to the men.

"Do you remember the story of the Garden?" the boy asked. "Do you remember the tree of life? The fruit that hung on the Tree of Life was eternal life, and that life was the very Life of God. God gave Adam and Eve a choice: to eat of the tree of His own life; or to eat of the tree of death and be separated from life forever. They chose death. God sent an angel with a flaming sword to guard the tree of life and block the way to paradise until the day that the curse of death would be broken."

I had never heard this story before, but somehow it, too, seemed familiar. I could feel the heat of the angel’s sword and the sadness the tree must have felt to know that the man and woman would never eat his fruit.

The boy continued. "God promised that one day a seed will come that will break the curse and make all things right."

"A seed?" I thought, "does he mean a seed from the tree of life?"

As if in answer, the boy said "it will be the seed of a woman, it will be a man, and when He comes, the Life of God will again hang on a tree in order to bring eternal life to all people." The boy’s words went straight into my heart and sent joy flowing to my every leaf. “If only I could be a tree of life,” I thought. Then I wondered, "could this boy be the promised seed?"

Several years later, a violent storm came, full of lightning and thunder. I heard a loud crack and a flash of lightning seared my side. I was so badly wounded I had to be cut down. A lumberman on his way to Galilee looked at me and said, "This is good wood. I know a carpenter in Nazareth who will appreciate it. I’ll take it to him."

When I saw the carpenter, I recognized him at once. This was the boy who had told the story of the Tree of Life. I saw the same knowing light in his eyes as he gazed at me. He cut me into two large beams and set me in a corner of his shop. "When next I carry you..." he said half out loud, but he did not finish the thought.

For several months I watched the carpenter, dreaming of the day he would come and make of me some great and useful item. His great kindness and wisdom awed me. I grew to love him. "If ever a man could set things right, it would be he," I thought. "Could he be the seed of the woman?"

Sometimes the carpenter looked up from his work and stared at me. A sadness would come on him that I did not understand, but there seemed to be something more than just sadness. It was as if he was seeing beyond the sadness to a joy so much greater that it made the sadness worthwhile.

One day, the carpenter boarded up his shop saying, "the time has come. I must go now, for I hear my Father calling." I was sad, for I would miss him, but I was also worried. "What will become of me now?" I thought.

I stood alone in the empty shop for a long time, until the day a man broke in and hid behind a pile of wood not far from me. Two Roman soldiers burst through the door after him. "Did you think you could escape us again, Barabbus?" said one of the soldiers. "We'll take you to Jerusalem where you'll be tried for treason and murder." Then the other soldier looked at me and said, "I think you can take this as an omen, Barabbus, you seem to have found your own cross!"

"A cross!" The though seared my heart just as the lightning had seared my side years before. "Not a cross, anything but a cross! Even if this man is deserving of death, do I have to be the instrument? I wanted to be a tree of life, not a tree of death!"

The soldiers put Barabbus and me into a wagon and took us to Jerusalem. One of them notched my two beams, nailed them together, and leaned me against a wall. Many people were coming into Jerusalem for the Passover feast. The crowd seemed joyous, but I could not share in their joy. How could a tree of death be joyful?

Suddenly, a loud procession entered the city with shouts of "Hosanna!" and "long live the Son of David!" I looked up and saw my beloved carpenter sitting on a young donkey. As they passed by, he looked at me. The familiar sadness clouded the joy on his face for a moment.

"He recognized me," I thought, "Even in this state he recognized me. Could he be the seed of the woman, after all? Has he come to make all things right?"

A few days later, a crowd began to gather and many of the leaders were going in and out among the people. They seemed to be starting a riot, stirring up the people with all kinds of lies and threats. I wondered what it was all about. Then someone shouted, "there he is, the blasphemer!"

All eyes turned toward a balcony where Pilate had appeared. I could not believe what I saw! There, behind Pilot, bound by ropes and covered with blood, stood my beloved carpenter. I felt sick.

Pilate raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "This Jesus, whom you see before you, has been charged with many crimes, but I have found no fault in him deserving of death; therefore, I will release him to you as is the custom on this holiday."

In a chorus led by the Pharisees, the crowd began to shout, "no! Give us Barabbus instead!" Pilate replied, "then what would you have me do with this Jesus?" The crowd shouted, "crucify him, crucify him!" The crowd was on the verge of riot. Pilate was giving in. I shook almost visibly as Pilate washed his hands and gave the innocent carpenter over to the will of the people.

Things moved so fast that I hardly knew what was happening. Jesus was dragged to the courtyard and roughly pushed toward me. A soldier shouted, "carry it!" The next thing I knew, I was being dragged toward the gate by the man I loved best in all the world.

"This can't be happening!" I thought. "A tree of death for a criminal was bad enough. How can I bear death for Him?"

At the top of the hill, I was thrown to the ground and Jesus was thrown on top of me. He did not resist but willingly spread his arms out and waited for the nails. I winced as the nails were driven deep into me. I was lifted into the air and set roughly into a hole in the ground.

The crowd jeered and the soldiers spat, but Jesus looked down on them with compassion, saying “Father, forgive them!” The sky turned black and the earth shook. "Who is this man who hangs on me?" I thought. "He must be more than a mere carpenter! But if he is the promised seed, how can God let this happen? Maybe God will rescue him at the last minute." But that was the last minute, and no rescue came.

Jesus spoke one last word to his Father and died. I could tell the moment it happened. Two men carried him to a nearby tomb and Roman soldiers helped move a great stone to seal it, then stood guard.

Three days I stood on that hill, looking down at the tomb in utter misery. It seemed an eternity. I wished that I had burnt to the ground that night the lightning had struck.

A bright flash of light drew my attention. Something was happening! I looked down and saw two mighty angels rolling the stone from the tomb. I could hardly believe what I saw. The tomb was empty!"

Some women ran to the grave and the angels spoke: "Why do you seek the living among the dead? Jesus is not here, He is risen!" Such joy rose up inside me that I nearly burst into flames. "Can it be true?" I thought.

I heard a voice: "It is true, my friend, I have conquered death." From behind me stepped my beloved carpenter, who was clearly so much more than a carpenter. "I am alive now, forevermore."

I looked at Him. The wounds in his hands and feet were clearly visible. "Those wounds!" I thought. "It was just three days ago that the nails pierced us, yet somehow those wounds look as if you have born them since before creation."

Jesus responded to my thought, "I have, and so have you, for I was crucified before the foundation of the world. Do you not remember the garden?"

I looked into Jesus' eyes and like a long forgotten dream the memories came back. I knew from where I had fallen all those years ago.

"Yes, I remember now! It was so perfect. You were there, and the man and the woman. You made me so beautiful and gave me the greatest honor. You placed within my fruit your very life. I was the Tree of Life!"

Jesus smiled. "As I had to come into the world as a man, so I sent you ahead of me to become an earthly tree. I had to go through death to break the power of death so that the way to life could be re-opened. So too, you had to become a tree of death in order to bear my life upon you once again.

"Anyone who comes to you will find me, and anyone who partakes of your fruit will receive my eternal life. It will be as it was always meant to be. I have made all things right."

With that word, Jesus motioned to the angels, who pulled me from the ground and carried me back to my home in the garden. The first thing I noticed was that the angel with the flaming sword was gone. The way to Paradise was open once again.

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