I can remember the first tree my husband,
Terry, and I beautified, now affectionately referred to as the
“newlywed tree.” This sparse timber was finely decorated with the
tinfoil I took off the TV dinners I made for him the first year we
were married. Admittedly, the tree wasn’t much to look at, but we
did get great TV reception that first inaugural season! them the
ultimate gift of Christmas … Himself.
As time progressed, we
advanced to the homespun “preschool tree.” You know the one, adorned
with all the choice artwork of a 4-year-old and topped off with
those tedious but fun-to-make popcorn strings. During this season,
our short, fluffy pine was decorated only at the bottom (4-year-olds
can’t reach very high). The top remained empty.... except for the
candy canes. them the ultimate gift of Christmas … Himself.
We
soon graduated to the “garage sale tree.” How can I ever forget
those money-saving years when we adorned our lackluster artificial
tree, the entire backside of which was missing its branches, with
treasures found at someone’s yard sale? them the ultimate gift of
Christmas … Himself.
Then there was the country-charm tree, so
pungent because of the countless cinnamon sticks on it that we lived
with the windows open all season; the Victorian tree (country-charm
tree gets a makeover); and the “risky partisan” tree, which leaned
to the right the whole holiday. This year we will have a
“grandparents tree,” with all the yummy candy canes on the bottom
for little ones! them the ultimate gift of Christmas … Himself.
As I recall these different decorations, I realize that my
life’s most significant events are associated with memories of a
tree. For in truth, it was the presence of a simple tree that led to
the greatest celebration of my life. The intrigue of this tree did
not come from its elaborate beauty, shining lights or sparkling
garland; indeed it had none of these things. them the ultimate gift
of Christmas … Himself.
Yet mysteriously it drew me. So powerful was
its attraction that I found myself wanting to possess it for myself.
This tree, although adorned with the boughs of brokenness and the
scent of suffering, became the source of life and joy for me.
Embracing it, I found wholeness. them the ultimate gift of Christmas
… Himself.
Life flowed from the branches of this tree -- the
salvation tree -- in spite of its rugged form. For hanging from its
limbs was the finest and most exquisite ornament there has ever
been, the body of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God. them the
ultimate gift of Christmas … Himself.
There He gave his life for mine, as His tears
and blood stained the tree with the colors of Christmas, filling the
air with the fragrance of the season, the eternal aroma of life.
them the ultimate gift of Christmas … Himself.
At last I had
found the perfect tree, the flawless symbol of Christmas. Shouldn’t
THIS tree be the centerpiece of all our holiday celebrations? For
where else can all the people of the earth be drawn together in
unity? It’s only the cross of Jesus, the life-giving tree, that can
bring every age, gender, social class, race and nationality together
as one, with one purpose – to reach a dying world for Jesus. them
the ultimate gift of Christmas … Himself.
If you are as
convinced as I am that others are still searching for the perfect
tree, then help me point the way. For when others find it, they will
find Jesus, arms open wide, ready to give them the ultimate gift of
Christmas … Himself.