I am like a crooked little Christmas tree.
My trunk is bent.
Branches are broken off.
In various places.
My needles are drying up.
And falling off.
Imperfect.
Flawed.
Broken.
Misshapen.
Distorted by sin.

And yet...
Still He loves me.
Because He bought me.
For a very high price.
The Blood of His Son.
Still He loves me.
In all my twistedness.
In all my waywardness.
Because He owns me.

I am like a crooked Christmas tree.
But He still puts His Light upon me.
And adorns me with His Love.
Transforming me.
From broken.
From crooked.
To beautiful.