Three Trees

            Three trees stand on the hill where Christ was put to death. Three trees that make all the difference: between life and death, meaning and purposeless, hope and despair.

Just three trees.

            Jesus hangs between two criminals aloft on the crosses of Golgotha. Three crosses—two criminals, one Savior. The dramatic conclusion of the story has been in front of us all along. All of scripture has been pointing us to the trees—unashamed, unwavering. John’s Gospel merely sets it before us one last time—three crosses, three trees. It is the only way for it to end, because all of scripture is positioned in relation to three trees. The tree of life. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And, lastly, the cross.

Shoshone Base Camp (Prichard, Idaho)

There were just two in the beginning—two trees standing in the Garden of Eden—perhaps you remember the story? The tree of life was God’s gift; it is the air that we breathe, the water that we drink, the food that we taste, everything that was created by the word of God; everything that was called good. Then there was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, meant not for us to taste. This is the tree through which sin entered the world; the tree that has brought us war, hatred, avarice, and greed; the tree that separates us one from another. It is the tree that allows us to see others as different from ourselves, as dangerous, as something other than God’s good creation.

Two trees stood in the Garden of Eden.

That we tasted from both is why we need the third. A chasm has formed between the trees. No longer do we recognize the tree of life in our unquenchable thirst for the knowledge of good and evil. We all taste from the fruit of the second tree. It has become our life and breath as it was never meant to be. The tree of knowledge colors everything that we see, hear, smell, taste and touch. Every little instant in our lives is a process of differentiating—good from bad, right from wrong, love from hate, and faith from unfaith. And that act of comparison and division turns us back to the tree again and again. Life abundant is insufficient. We are people of distinctions, and the root of sin is comparison.

But Christ died for something more. What we need is not endless knowledge but life in abundance. What we need is not division but multiplication. What we truly need is a bridge from the tree of knowledge to which we so desperately cling to the tree of life that calls us home. A third tree: A tree that the world considers an instrument of death and destruction—that the world considers evil—a tree that was to demonstrate the ultimate power of earthly authority, a tree the authorities meant to justify the knowledge of good and evil. This was a tree purposed to bring death. The cross: all those things to the powers of this world, but finally none of them at all. What was meant to bring death could bring only life; what was meant to cause evil, God ordained for good.

Good Friday.

The tree of knowledge will not stand alone. The cross obliterates the distinctions—no more good and evil, no more right and wrong, no more separation or discrimination. The roots that were planted so deeply in our conscience are ripped free as if they were straws of grass. Where two trees once stood, a third now bridges the gap.

Just three trees, standing by the tomb, where Christ was laid to rest.

Superior Hiking Trail (NE Minnesota)