Tonight, we decorated our Christmas tree as a family. Carols played from another room as we talked, laughed, and enjoyed adorning branches. But Christmas trees remind me of another tree, and the deeper meaning of Christmas: “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, so that, having died to sins, we might live for righteousness” (1 Peter 2:24). Last year, I tried to capture this juxtaposition in a poem called “Christmas Tree,” which appeared in my second book Event Horizon.
Christmas Tree This year’s tree stands at the picture window. Overcast skies give their pallor to the window-facing side of the tree. Shadows from the unlit room reach and drape across the tree’s back as I think about a baby born to die, and the tree waits to be hung with garland and lights.
A Wandering Minstrel 