So I made a cross today. No, not one you wear around your neck, a little bigger than that. As I was thinking about this coming Easter…the first one in a new church, I thought “Wow, we need a cross on the stage.” I did a little digging, but the only cross I could find was a little small. Our sanctuary is HUGENORMOUS…so naturally, anything but a hugenormous cross would look like it’s made out of toothpicks. Go big, or go home…at least that's what the lactation consultant told us years ago when we were getting ready to be parents!
Anyhow, a friend of mine, who used to be a logger hooked me up with two great tree trunks. It was a giant cedar tree that had fallen. My friend suggested I take it to the mill and get it rough squared…OH NO. Not me. I had it in my mind I was going to make this cross for the Lord’s Church by hand. After all, this thing is supposed to represent Jesus, and Jesus was a Jewish Carpenter… without power tools…trust me, it all makes sense in my mind.
I figured since I’d seen an episode of something on Discovery where they showed how the settlers of America used broad axes to do this sort of thing, well, so could I. Have you ever used an antique broad axe for anything other than a decoration? DON’T! At this point, I figured since I have a great chainsaw just sitting in the garage, why not use it? But as I held that behemoth saw in my hands, my mind was reeling with images of me crawling to the phone to dial 911 with part of a severed leg in my mouth like a pirate sneaking aboard one of the Her Majesty’s fleet. WHAT WAS I THINKING? I’m not qualified for this. Do you know how hard it is to “just cut the rounded part” off the length of a tree trunk? A 400 pound tree trunk! So I prayed, that’s what we do right? “Dear God, in honor of your Son and our observance of His sacrifice…I make this cross for you. Please don’t let me cut my leg off. The wife will be so ticked if I do! Amen.”
And then I just dove right in. Sawdust and shavings were flying 6 feet in the air. It was awesome. The motor on the Stihl was raging. I was sweating like Lady Gaga at confessional. My arms were burning. Ears were ringing. Lungs were wheezing. Safety glasses totally blurred. I was in the zone. And then it was over. 45 minutes of 2-cycle oil, fear induced mayhem. And I had rough squared my timbers. Legs still hooked to the rest of the torso! Hallelujah!
But……..my “Hosanna” faded faster than it did in Jerusalem the day Jesus came to town. Now what? I’ve got two hacked up cedar timbers…how on earth does that become a cross? Now would be a good time for the broad axe. Yes! NO!!!!! I’m such a slow learner. (Note to self: There is never a good time for an 80 year old broad axe.) I kind of tinkered around with a few options that were useless. And that’s where Norm Abram of the New Yankee Workshop began whispering to my soul…”Use the Plane. Use the Plane.” And then his voice faded away. But I got it! I got the message. For 4 hours I planed. And I planed. And I planed some more. I think tomorrow if my arms still work, which is questionable right now, I will plane again. (This is where Tattoo would say, Replane! Replane! With all this “planning” you knew it was coming.) Pathetic.
But it was incredible. It’s so therapeutic. You can think about stuff. Pray about stuff. Meditate on stuff. All while working away. No wonder Jesus was able to be so mellow most of the time. He was able to be so peaceful and gentle and holy…because while His body was working, His mind and heart and spirit were on the clock too. How refreshing is that? The picture above is how I started. I’ll post a pic next week when it’s put to use. Until then, no peeking! Just anticipate the JOY of Easter with me.
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