In Luke 13:6-9, a fruitless tree is given a second chance. At first the owner wants to chop it down but the gardener pleads with him to give the tree another year, with the boost of fertilizer and loosened soil. Hearing the truth that my egoic life is fruitless is painful at first, but I've experienced more than one second chance from God. This poem came out of our community's reflections on this passage.
Second Season
Once there was a tree
with two voices presiding.
The tree was not quite gone
but fruitless, barren, good as dead.
The first voice cut to the bone,
final as a surgeon's scalpel,
"If the tree is barren we cut it down."
Judgement fell final, the law
on the side of unavoidable truth.
The second voice came before the fall of the axe,
saying "Wait, wait, I know
something that might help.
I'll dig around the tree's base
with my shovel called grace,
loosened soil might then be ready to
receive rich humus, humanity's shit,
vital once more."
This voice softened the first law,
gave the tree a second chance.
Perhaps it will now bear fruit,
this was the hope,
growing in this second season of mercy.
One tree, two voices,
this is what I thought at first,
but now I see more clearly.
Law and grace spoke as one.
Saving judgement is all I really have.
I owe everything to the giver of truth,
the giver of second chances.