I've been thinking a lot about wood. Heck, hardly a day goes by that I don't. Anyway, as I'm thinning some trees today around the shop where I work, I can't help but laugh at how hopelessly infatuated I am with the stuff.
It bends.
It burns.
It builds.
It stacks.
It floats (with few exceptions).
It is at once remarkably simple and wonderfully complex.
It is used by every culture on every continent throughout all time, world without end.
Some have found some very unusual ways to employ it:
And here's an aspect of wood that continually blows my mind:
It was "invented" in all it's complexity, by the God of the Universe (YHWH), which He preordinately provided for the atoning crucifixion of His One and Only Son — ineffable.
Not much more to say, except:
"Thank God Almighty for wood."
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suff’ring and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
Refrain:
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.
Oh, that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.
In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.
To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.
(George Bennard 1913 — Public Domain)
