Three Trees Stood in a Forest

by Richard McCormack

  No Good! Never Amount to Anything!

  The sun is bright and hot. The ground is hard and dry. Years have passed since his brother trees were cut and taken to the carpenter’s shop. Worse of all, the weather has not favored the years since they left. Drought has almost halted the growth of the third tree. He was not a fast grower to start with, but lately he seems to have altogether stopped growing. He didn’t mind his brothers teasing him about his height. He knew it was harmless fun. But it seems like after they left all the other trees would pick on him and call him names or refer to his height. Especially that oak! He was the worse one. He grew up really fast and tall. Then he would stands over the little tree and stretch out his limbs. The little tree was glad when the lumberjack came and cut him down. Now he can continue on his growing.

  But every once in a while some of the other taller trees would tease him. They would say things like, “Just a chip off the old block,” or, “Kind of stubby there, aren’t ya.” Others would prod him and poke fun at him. He told himself they didn’t mean anything by it. It was just their way of including him in their games and fun. Besides didn’t he hear someone say, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

  Isn’t that how it went?

  Isn’t that what they say?

  Anyways, He was going to be a strong and tall tree. One that would be used as the corner post of the temple. A post that will last for eternity. Other posts will come and go and have to be replaced, but he will be the post that everyone will see forever. All he has to do is grow a little taller and a little bigger. That is what it will take.

  The tree watches as the lumberjack comes year after year cutting down trees around him. Every time he breathes a sigh of relief that the lumberjack does not come for him.

  “I still have growing to do,” the little tree says “I’m going to be the corner post of the temple. I will grow tall and strong. I’ll show them.”

  Then it happened. The day came when the forest had only small saplings. There were no more tall trees. The third tree looked around and saw only saplings. He encouraged them to grow, to never give up. Even though times were rough and the rain had not come in many years, things would get better, he would tell the sapling.

  “Look at me,” the third tree would say, “I was once just like you but I am growing into a large tree, one that will be cut into a large post so I can bear the weight of the temple.”

  The third tree even watched the lumberjack come every once in a while and sigh at the lack of tall trees. Once, when it was cold the lumberjack brought his ax and came to the third tree. “Not yet!” the tree screamed. “I am not ready.” The lumberjack moved on and picked up some branches instead as he left.

  But then it happened. The day the tree was dreading. The lumberjack came over the ridge with his ox and his ax in hand. The tree could tell he was coming to fill an order; however, there were no more tall trees—he was the tallest. The tree tried to stand taller. Tried to stretch higher. “I’m not ready!” the tree yelled. But it was too late, the ax was at the trunk.

  “No!” the tree yelled as he toppled to the ground. “I’m not tall enough or strong enough. I was going to be something. I was going to be the corner post of the temple. I was going to be something . . .”

  As the lumberjack approached the carpenter’s shop the tree heard the frustration from the carpenter. “What do you want me to do with this stick?” the carpenter said. “It is not big enough to be a corner post, maybe a fence post, but that is all.”

  “But it is all that is left,” the lumberjack says in frustration as he drags the tree to the side of the shop. “The forest is sparse, this was the tallest tree around for miles.”

  “I need one taller and larger,” the carpenter exclaims. “The architect of the temple wants a large corner post. One that can bear the weight of the temple.”

  “This is all there is,” the lumberjack said. “Just pay me and I will try to find another one in Galilee.”

  “All I can pay you for is a fence post,” the carpenter said. “And that is overpaying you for this stick.”

  “A fence post?” the tree thought. “I’m taller than a fence post.”

  The tree sighed as the carpenter took him inside and began to cut on him. At first the carpenter squared him off and then began to divide the tree into thirds. The carpenter didn’t know what to do with the little tree. It didn’t seem good for anything!

  Just then, as the carpenter was finishing the first cut, a Roman centurion broke through the door.

  “Carpenter!” the centurion commanded. “I have need of those posts!”

  “Post? You mean these pieces of wood?” the carpenter said “But they are not finished. They are rough and abrasive, I just cut them in too. They are not good for anything.”

  However, the centurion would not listen. He ordered his soldiers to bring the large post and the freshly cut small one and to follow him.

  “I could have been something,” the tree, that is now two posts, sighs. “But now I will never amount to anything. I am not good enough for anything.”

  The soldiers take the larger part of the tree and drags him to the top of a hill outside of the town where a hole has already been dug. Quickly the tree is lowered into the hole, then dirt is tamped around the base. The tree looks out over the town. He sees the entire town from his new hill top view and thinks to himself that it reminds him of the forest. Peering out further into the city he sees the temple, so beautiful, so majestic. Oh, how he longed to be the corner post of the temple.

  “I would have been the corner post of the Temple that would have been used for the glory of God,” the tree sighs.

  Soldiers quickly appear over the ridge. Their tone sharp, almost blood-thirsty. A sense of anger and madness fills the air.

  “What are they doing?” the tree thinks. “Why is everyone so mad?”

  The tree can hear a large crowd inside the city. It is a growing crowd of angry people yelling at someone. The tree pears through the narrow corridors of the streets but he only sees the crowd. They are throwing stones at something. Spitting and cursing! What could be that bad that these people would be this violent?

  Then the tree sees the object of their wrath. It is a Man. A man that can barely walk and he is carrying the other part of the tree.

  “Why are they yelling at him? Why are they spitting on him?” the tree wonders. He watches as a soldier swings a stick at the Man and hits Him on the head. The Man falls. The tree watches the brutality of the soldiers as they kick and beat on the Man.

  “What are they doing? No one deserves this!”

  Another man is dragged from the crowd with two boys clinging to his robe. The soldiers pull the boys away from the man and throw them back into the crowd. The soldiers then force the man beside the one who is beaten. The tree can hear the words of the soldier, even from the hill top, “You! Carry the cross!

  The man bends down and picks up the other part of the tree. He places the shorter part of the tree on his back and walks in front of the Man who is beaten so bad He can hardly walk.

  As the crowd comes up the hill the tree can see the full abuse the Man has undertook. The tree watches as a soldier comes near the Man and hits Him again in the face. The crowd laughs as the Man falls to the ground. Blood stains the dirt where he lay.

  “Crucify him!” are the words which so vehement come from the crowd. “Crucify him!”

  “Why? What has he done?” the tree wonders.

  The soldiers grab the small part of the tree from off the man who was helping and throws it to the ground. Two boys run up to the man and with a mixture of fear and relief they embrace the man who carried the cross.

  “Why is this happening?” the tree cries to himself.

  The soldiers strip the Man naked and lay Him across the small part of the tree. One soldier demonstrates his superiority by placing his foot across the throat of the Man and laughs as he holds the Man in place. Another grab
s a spike and stretched out the hand of the Man.

  As the hammer comes down the tree yells out, “No! Can’t you see He is helpless. Have you no mercy?” But the tree’s words are not heard.

  The Man cries out as spikes are driven through his hands. Soldiers then tie ropes to the small part of the tree and hoist it almost to the top of the standing tree— with the Man nailed and tied to the smaller part. Blood drips down onto the tree as the wounds from his head and back are scrapped across the tree’s rough side. A soldier ties the two trees together but the smaller part of the tree still wobbles in the wind. Another soldier grabs the feet of the Man and places them together while yet another places a spike on top the feet and hammers it through.

  An agonizing scream bellows out from the Man. His legs buckle as they quiver; however, the pain is so great He is forced to stand as straight as possible. Blood runs down the tree from the wounds and drip on the soldiers below.

  “How insensitive the soldiers are!” the tree thinks as he watches the soldiers cast lot for the Man’s clothing.

  The tree looks at the crowd and sees a mixed variety of people: priests, soldiers, men, women, and even children. Some weeping or standing in astonishment, yet most waving a fist as they curse and spit on the Man. “Why?” the tree wonders. “What could this Man have possibly done to be awarded this vile contempt from the people?”

  Time passes as the Man hangs there with two other men, one on His right and one on His left. The two men on the side banter back and forth.

  The tree listens to the words of the Man as the sky turns dark and rain begins to fall. All have forsaken Him, even His Father. “Wont someone help Him? He feels so abandoned”

  Two women along with a young man stand below Him. They are weeping and reaching out to touch Him. Their hearts are so broken. The tree begins to weep for their loss.

  “Forgive who?” the tree says. “Who do you want to forgive?”

  “What is finished?” the tree remarks. “I don’t understand. What did you finish?”