How good of Easter to come right after winter. For those cold barren months burrow in us an awareness of death, a humility to that which we cannot control. Instead of the obvious of vibrant colors and the fullness of foliage and the singing of the animal world, when we surrender to a season of dying we must look harder to see life in forms less visible. Like the whispers of wind that foretell change. And the provision of a thick coat that miraculously appear on the deer that winter in our woods. Like the glistening of snow that makes the bare branches sparkle. And the winter fellowship that happens when a family hibernates in their den of togetherness.
There are glimpses of life in every season of death. You just have to let grace be your vision.
But the hardest for me is right now. These days stuck in the in-between. None of the beauty of Winter, with few signs yet of Spring. It’s a holding place that makes me restless. I yearn for the resurrection of colorful days, of the songs of the birds, of the warmth of the sun. I ache for the way it all breathes life into our bones and we begin to dance instead of huddle.
And this rebirth, this resurrection, is only possible because we endured the season before it. The one that taught us how to be still. The one that tested our patience. The one that made us tuck under covers. The one that brought the dark. The one that stirred in us a fervent longing for what’s to come.
And it has me wondering what needs dying in my life and what needs resurrecting. For when death is happening all around, you can’t help but also notice the winter in your heart. The starvation of control. The dullness of cultural conformity. The infertile nature of judgment. The suffocation of perfectionism. And how God is taking these territories of my heart and making them barren in order to resurrect the abundant life he intends for me. One of surrender. One of intentionality and mission. One of grace.
After death, God always resurrects. This we can be certain of. For it’s His story, and ours. But resurrection happens only after surrender, only after “Into your hands I commit my spirit.” This artist God of ours is always re-creating in and around us, springing forth new life, raising from our graves of flesh a life and spirit that embraces more fully our purpose on this earth.
What needs resurrecting in you? And what must die in order for God to raise up new life?
Apr 1 2015 @ 2:03 pm
Such perfect timing for this to come into my life! I’ve been thinking about the fickle weather we’ve had here in Pa and how it slowly transitions into Spring everywhere. It’s the same of our seasons in life at times. We slowly transition into them. Signs of sun appear and we get excited only to be met with another delay of a cloud of snow on the last day of March. “Bummer!” Is heard throughout the land. How neat that God knows how to feed and water the earth to bring about the spring and summer beauty we enjoy though. And yet we complain about it. Isn’t the same true of us when we are in our seasons of transition? We complain when God is taking too long on something we wait eagerly for . . . A new job, different circumstances, a clean bill of health, but He knows when to bring what we wait for to fruition. Humility. A lesson to be learned in waiting. That’s what needs to be slain in me —selfishness and pride. And my “Yes, Lord!” attitude needs to be resurrected again. Thank you for sharing. You have blessed me. God bless 🙂