The Work of the Tree

He was laid in wood
before He ever carried it.
A manger, roughly cut,
splintered with the breath of animals,
holding a baby the world did not yet know –
God made flesh.

Years later, in Jericho,
there was a man named Zacchaeus,
a chief tax collector,
wealthy with what he had taken.
Short of stature and heavy with guilt,
he climbed a sycamore tree,
borrowing height to see Jesus
from where he thought he could remain unseen.

Jesus came to the tree.
He stopped.
Looked up.

And spoke the name
no one expected Him to say.

Zacchaeus,
come down from there.
I must stay at your house today.

Below him, the crowd saw a sinner.
Above them, Jesus saw a man
and gave grace.

They muttered sinner,
but mercy crossed the threshold.
What was hidden was brought into the light.
Wrongs were confessed.
Restitution followed repentance.

Today, salvation came to this house.

The tree had done its work –
not by lifting a man higher,
but by bringing him down.

Elsewhere, another tree was cut.
Not for fruit,
but for a cross.

He carried it.
The weight of wood.
The weight of sin.

Blood ran red upon the grain,
washing what we could not cleanse.
Stains lifted.
Hearts made new.
White as snow.

The cross, cut from a tree,
became the way back to God.
Lifted high,
He carried our shame away.

He was born among wood.
He carried wood.
He was lifted on wood,
and in His lifting,
nothing stained was left untouched.

Jesus calls us by name,
unbound by wood or tree or time.

Come.
Salvation is here.

SK-

Lifted High

He was laid in wood before He walked,
before His name was widely talked.
A manger, simple, rough, and bare,
held heaven’s hope in infancy.

No crown, no throne, no royal bed,
just humble space beneath His head.
The Word made flesh, so small, so near,
God breathing in a stable’s air.

Years later down Jericho’s street,
a sinner stood on restless feet.
Zacchaeus; rich, despised, unclean,
longed to see the Man the crowds proclaimed.

Too short to look above the crowd,
too stained to stand and feel allowed,
he climbed a tree with borrowed height
to glimpse the Man who gave men sight.

He thought himself beyond the reach,
a watcher safe from holy speech.
But Jesus stopped beneath that tree
as if the moment waited Him.

He looked above the crowd’s disdain
and spoke the name wrapped up in shame.

Zacchaeus, come down, He called to him, “Today is Mine.”
Your house, your heart, your life, your time.

The crowd below spat quiet blame,
they labeled sin, they whispered shame.
But Jesus saw what they ignored.
A man still loved, a soul restored.

Coins were loosed and wrongs confessed,
repentance rising in his chest.
And mercy crossed the open door
where grace had never walked before.

Today, salvation filled that place,
declared by truth and sealed by grace.
The tree had served its humble part;
not lifting pride, but breaking hearts.

Yet far away, another tree
was cut from earth, from root, from leaf.
Not meant for shade or fruit or rest,
but shaped into a cruel request.

He bore its weight along the road,
each step beneath our heavy load.
The wood pressed hard, the crowd pressed near,
while love erased the grip of fear.

His blood ran red upon the grain,
washing guilt, undoing stain.
What we could never make undone
was finished by the Holy One.

That cross, once tree, became the way,
where night was split by saving day.
Lifted high for all to see,
He carried shame and set us free.

Born in wood.
And bound by none.
Lifted high… the work was done.

He calls us still, both near and far,
unheld by time or place or scar.

Come, He says, “don’t stay outside.”
Salvation stands with arms spread wide.

SK-

Woven in the Fabric

God loves you.
Every one of us is broken in some way – carrying shame, fear, grief, or a quiet struggle no one else can see. I’m walking through a season of deep depression right now, and I share that not for sympathy, but for honesty. Even here, especially here, I have learned how deeply loved I am.

I come back to Jesus again and again in prayer because He came to me first. In my weakness, He has been gentle. In my brokenness, He has been faithful. He has met me where I am and held me when I did not feel strong enough to stand.

This time of year, is beautiful, but it can also be heavy. Joy and sorrow often live side by side. If you are struggling, please know this – Jesus is your comfort. He is your safe place when no place and no person feel safe. He rescues, He restores, and He stays.

If this encouraged you, consider sharing it with someone who may need to be reminded of His love today. Sometimes the smallest act of obedience becomes the way hope reaches another heart.

You are not alone.
You are known by name.
And you are deeply loved. – Skelly

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