Wild Weed (Romans 11)

I was a wild weed,
a wild weed, a wild weed.
I was a wild weed
far from Your holy garden.

You picked me with Your hand,
You cut my roots, You shook me free.
You picked me with Your hand,
torn from my bed of comfort.

You tied me to a tree,
You stripped my leaves, You bound and freed.
You tied me to a tree,
its arms as wide as heaven.

And now I am a branch,
Forgiven, loved, fruitful, redeemed.
I was a wild weed,
But now my roots run deep.

Originally from a private devotion from a few years ago, meditating on Romans chapter 11. Edited for poetry January 2023.

…For if the roots of the tree are holy, the branches will be too.

Romans 11:16b

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