A Choice Between Trees

In our brokenness, we have become estranged from Love. All that is left to us now are but shards of a shattered reality which cut and wound us even as we embrace them. Thorns and thistles, the sweat of the brow remind us that “knowing,” apart from Love, yields a harvest of death. “Where are you?”

Apart from Love we cover our nakedness with shame and guilt, seeking desperately to hide behind a fortress of lies. Approaching footsteps ring echoes of terror as our new found insanity warps the very fabric of creation and distorts the image of Love’s intentions. “I heard you coming and was afraid.”

Our proximity reveals our betrayal. Love’s embrace is exchanged for a self imposed exile which foreshadows the hell of separation and fatality of realized appetite. Shuffling feet and the assignment of blame become the posture and vernacular of creatures who have willfully abandoned their place in Love. ‘”What have you done?”

In his brokenness, Love removes our estrangement. He was cut and wounded as he embraced the shards of our shattered reality. A crown of thorns and thistles, the blood of his brow remind us that only in knowing Love can we have true life.

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