Resurrected, a new eternal life.

Resurrected, this poem, was born as I was sitting at our breakfast table during the early spring getting my work plans established for the day ahead.

As I gazed out the window, thinking of what I wanted to accomplish for the day, I noticed small green buds beginning to form on one of our large trees.I thought about those buds, what caused them to form, what force was behind that kind of action.

Those trees had stood dormant for the past several months and in a strange way they suddenly came back to life and began to grow again. It was truly a miracle, it was as though they had died and had been brought back to life again.

As a Sunday school teacher at that time, I wondered how I might use that example in oneof my Sunday morning classes. It suddenly dawned on me God was giving me a glimpse of death and new life, Just as he had promised through His Son Jesus.

Not only did He give me a glimpse of new life, He gave me the words to this poem as well, and the poem was written in the next fifteen minutes with not a single change being made.

This poem has become one of my most popular pieces of poetry and has been published in a poetry anthology. I really don’t understand how I manage to write poetry, I simply know that God’s hand is behind all I do.

 

The poem

 
The mighty oak with all it's power, its gnarled trunk and time worn face,
In the warming breeze of springtime stands tall within its place.
Green leaves begin to slowly form as the sap begins to run
From the roots that's buried deep beneath and the warmth of the springtime sun.

The gray black bark of its outer shell protects its inner core
From the winter winds that howl about and the creeping pests that bore.
We too can be like this old tree with its resurrected face
Holding on to our Lord above and rooted in his grace.

A glimpse of the resurrection is given us by God
As we look across the meadows and see the new green sod.
Our outer shell like the old oak tree has weathered many a storm,
Our face that once was smooth as silk is wrinkled now and worn.

The feet that once so sprightly danced have slowed to just a crawl,
But like this oak that stands alone we too can heed his call.
With the warming touch of his gentle hand, and the love of his glorious son.
We can join him in that heavenly place when all on earth is done.

Be like this oak with its mighty strength that has stood alone through the years
Be not afraid to speak for him and he will quiet your fears.
If he can make this oak return from the death of the winter chill,
He too can resurrect our lives, because it is his will.

Russell R Cranmer Jr.

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