The Tree

My Christmas tree came down last night.  “Finally!” you say for Easter is just around the corner, and though such is so, the dismantling of my lovely decoration did not come any easier.  However, it did come with more meaning.

I’m glad I left my tree up for so long because it gave me plenty of time to ponder its merit and appreciate its splendor.  Every day since the end of November, the lights woven throughout its branches were the first thing on in the morning and the last thing off at night.  During breakfast, I marveled at its sparkling beauty and smiled.  As I walked in from work each afternoon, I breathed in the refreshing aroma of evergreen and sighed with delight.  (Yes, it still had that fantastic fir tree smell, even after all this time.  And, yes, it was still mostly green. Only in the past week had tinges of brown begun to show.)  In the history of holidays, some may enjoyed their Christmas trees as much as I did, but no one has ever enjoyed one more.  

As I boxed up the balls and packed away the garland, my daughter slowly and sweetly began to sing the first verse of a familiar carol.  “Hark! the herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King!’”  Her voice sounded so angelic I couldn’t help but hark, and as I did, I heard the sweetest words ever sung. “Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.”

After thousands of years of trouble and turmoil, the only legitimate prospect for lasting peace arrived on earth as a baby. Grace bundled in a blanket. Mercy small and weak and meek and mild.

But Mercy didn’t stay mild.  Mercy grew quickly and became mighty and fierce and relentless and overwhelming and amazing, and with a courage we can never conceive, Mercy walked straight to a rugged cross for our redemption.  And then in a staggering display of astonishing power, He defeated the ultimate enemy of death and walked straight out of the tomb.

That’s why my Christmas tree had to come down.  Because the delight of the baby’s arrival has to give way to the celebration of His sacrifice, or the story is incomplete.  The tree of Christmas simply starts the path to the tree of Calvary—the only place where we can find “God and sinners reconciled.”

Don’t wait for the herald angels.  Start the song yourself.

“Glory to the Risen King!”