The Original Christmas Tree

The Original Christmas tree
My Guardian Angel woke me with a soft kiss on the cheek; he’d not done that since I was nine years old. As I sat up and looked about rubbing my eyes, I quickly realized I was nine again… although still in my current house with my wife and children sleeping. Per usual, my mind immediately became busied by the things a father’s mind is busied by, but as had never happened, he allowed me to stay with him in the suspended realm between the physical and spiritual.
“I want you to see the original Christmas tree” he whispered. “Quickly, come with me.”
He grabbed my hand as he’d done so many times before and quietly guided me through the halls of my home. Soon the walls melted away, replaced by an ancient dimension, dusty and dreadful. Our journey stopped in a corridor constructed of desolation at the foot of a lonely dune on which stood a single tree. My angel knelt before it, motioning for me to do the same, and to look up.
The tree was offensive, barren and twisted; a grotesque contortion of pain and despair. There were no fir shoots of green or pine needles, nor did it smell of Christmas sap, and the only decorations upon it were splashes of what appeared to be red paint, oozing and dripping, and a large light which hung alone in the middle of its only two limbs.
I nudged my angel. “This isn’t a Christmas tree” I whispered, “it’s sad and it only has one light, which isn’t even a Christmas light. Where’s the Garland and tinsel? Where are the Christmas bobbles and strings of popcorn? There are no ornaments or Christmas tree smell, and Christmas trees always have gift’s under them…where are the gifts?”
“The gift was never under the original Christmas tree” he whispered. “The gift was, and still is, on the tree itself, but only for those who can see, those who will see…look harder.”
With his words the single light slowly began to twist and groan, as though trying to find a position that would offer the slightest relief…it found none.
“What is this tree” I asked? “Why did you bring me here?”
“The original Christmas tree is the tree of Salvation” he said, his own eyes fixed on the single light. “Hung upon it and bleeding to death is the anointed son of God, the light of world. All his flesh is torn and he’s being slaughtered for the sins of mankind, willingly…such is his love.
As I stood in horror, staring at the overwhelming sadness, the ooze of his blood shed on the tree specifically because of me started to shimmer and his light began to dim. For a brief moment as it did, I was able to see the annihilated form of the Son of God in his person.
He slowly raised his head until our gazes locked and forced a weak, painful smile set against kind eyes and cracked lips; and with the last of His strength he softly breathed “Merry Christmas Anthony.”
Author Anthony J Wobbe 5-23-16

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2 Comments

  1. Mike Lancaster

    Grace and blessing to you all all your kin. Have a Merry Christmas. The message is transparent in you.

  2. Betty Taylor

    This is a very moving story. Thank you for sharing.

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