Jesus knew every stage of the cursed tree He bled on. He was there when the seed fell to the earth with thousands of its kin; He watched it fight for root space and force its way to the surface. He had tended the dirt himself and fashioned the scientific principles that allowed it to turn sunlight and water into food. He knew where the oxygen it breathed out went.
Jesus knew about the bark forming and the first unfurling leaves. He knew how eventually the tree shot through the sky and cast shadows across the ground. He knew about every individual bird that rested or nested in its branches—and the ones that fell out and died and decayed.
He knew when the tree died, too. He knew every man who had hewed it so roughly that He could feel the splinters.
He knew the stories of the thieves’ trees, too. But He wasn’t thinking about trees.