During a walk with one of my pups, I noticed something I’d never seen before. The trees were still mostly barren, but one tall tree had a low-hanging branch lined with long, thick thorns— some four inches. I believe it was a Chinese Honey-Locust. Instantly, Jesus’s crown of thorns came to mind. If I had clippers, I might have snipped a strip to try bending it into a crown—just to hold a physical reminder of what was sacrificed for me. I touched the tip of the longest thorn—It was sharp. I’ve been pricked by rose thorns plenty of times, but this was something entirely differ - ent. I stood still and stared at it, feeling the weight of what it must have been like for someone to craft something so cruel—and press it into a man’s head. And not just any man. God in human form. With Easter so near, it made me pause to appreciate His pain, His humiliation, His strength. How brave and strong He was—fully God and fully man—yet willing to suffer what no human should have to en - dure. And all for the sins of the world… past, present, and future. What an extraordinary ransom. It made me reflect—am I truly being a friend to Jesus for all He sacrificed for me? He lays down His life, and I fall short of His grace daily. Yet He forgives me daily—more faith - fully than any human ever could. I wonder, how do you share a moment like this with someone who doesn’t believe? How do you pass along the weight and wonder of that thorned branch and the One it reminds you of? The world resists light. But still He came. Still He gave. God knows who will believe and who won’t. That must be a deep kind of grief— watch - ing your creation reject you. It's a sadness reflected even here on earth, between par - ents and children. And perhaps that gives new meaning to the words “on earth as it is in Heaven.” I just thought it was something worth shar - ing. I wish more people could see that tree. And connect it to the love that was nailed to another.