Poem: You Picked Out My Tree

You picked out my tree
And cut it to shape.
You wanted to be free.

To do your own thing
And go your own way;
Pushing away the King.

I called you, "Dear son.
How I've loved you so;
Ever since you were young.

When you fall I'm there
Helping you stand up,
Giving you all the care.

My child, please hear,
I want you to know
You do not need to fear."

You said, "Go away.
You don't understand.
I'm too bad and astray."

Positioning me
My body and all
Nailing me to the tree.

You heard my adieu,
"Father fogive him
For he has not a clue."

The thunder clattered
And lightning quarreled.
Not one person chattered.

Continuing sin,
You lived out your life
Flouting the Voice within.

Your mother was killed
One day on the street.
Sorrow was then instilled.

You cried out, "God why!?
All she did was good.
Why did she have to die?"

Then you remembered
That scene on the cross.
My body dismembered.

"Oh Lord," you did say
"Whose fault but mine own.
Forgive me, please, I pray.

For by transgression
My heart became hard,
Which led to aggression."

Your tears now flowing,
I embraced your hand,
"You did this not knowing.

I died on that cross
With nails in my hands
So you would have no loss.

When you misconstrue,
Fumble, or feel low,
Come and I'll bring you through.

I love each and all
And have come to save
Those who answer my call."