An Easter Story

As the Easter eggs are painted, glittered and stickered, I wonder why we do so much with eggs this time of year.  I did a little research.  Many believe that eggs became so important, because they were not allowed during Lent.  Once Lent was over, people celebrated by breaking out the eggs.  For centuries, they symbolized life, and the promise of resurrection...there is more.  What has not been born, will be one day.  What is not seen, will be seen. It is a promise.

I wonder, if I were an egg, what would be inside?  What more is there to me?  We paint what's on the outside.  We clothe it and dress it up putting stickers on it to identify what we like, where we live, our occupations and other information we want people to know and admire.  These are our conversation starters and sadly, sometimes we never get past talking about these things.  What about the inside?  Are we readying the inside?

When Christ returns and/or I meet him face to face for the first time, I want what he sees when he cracks that egg, not to be some undeveloped goop.  I want to also see what all of this work has created.  I want to see it for myself in the end.  I want to stand there with Christ and marvel at what we have done together with his gift of my life.  That is why I keep working every day to nourish and protect his creation, because inside there is a miracle in progress.

A Picture of Living Hope

       So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,                    

                                    but on what is unseen. 



For what is seen is temporary,

                   but what is unseen is eternal.                 

                                                       II Corinthians 4:18

 

These are a Few of my Favorite Things

The crisp air.  The deep reds, lively oranges and vibrant yellows.  The smell of someone burning firewood. Cinnamon and vanilla.  Homemade pies and cookies.  Being bundled up to watch a football game.  Hot chocolate and homemade cider.  The gathering of family.  Laughter.  Togetherness.  I love it.

I just had to write about my favorite time of year.  It is a time of rebirth in my eyes.  That seems odd I guess.  Since the changing of the leaves is really an indication that they are about to drop to the ground, dry up and disintegrate into the earth.  Maybe that's why I love this season so much.  Because right before the death of something living, it seems to come alive in the most marvelous, breathtaking way.  Before the dead, cold winter, God reminds us that what seems like it is dying...never will.  It will go into the earth and provide nutrients so that growth comes again in Spring. 

The views of fall are really an indication of life, to me.  There is no death in the realm of God's children.  Only a period of dormancy.  Isn't that amazing?  God shows us through the world around us that those we love are not gone.  They are not dead.  If they knew him...they are very much alive.  We are the ones that lie dormant.  Our winter is here.  They know the brilliance of new life.  The abundance of waking up in the Spring of heaven must be amazing.  The sad part for us is when there are no more pretty leaves on the trees...when the excitement of change becomes the dreariness of winter.  We see the brilliance of their lives as they move on to eternity and long for that brilliance to never end.  I know I long for Fall to be year round.  Doesn't it seem like those we love leave this world at a time when their colors are so amazing?  It's baffling, but I guess it's the order of things.  The leaves won't always stay on the trees.  And we will not always be on this earth.  But, I am sure of this: the seasons of heaven, the unfolding of our lives up there, is going to surpass anything we could ever imagine!

Thorns in the Flesh

Remember that verse where Paul says so passionately and almost desperately (I imagine) how he continues to do those things he does not want to do.  How his humanity gets in the way and hinders what he sees his life with God as.  I am so glad he wrote that.  I feel it so often when those thorns in my side keep me from sprinting through the finish line as fast as I'd like.

But, maybe those thorns are there for a reason.  Constant reminders that we alone can do nothing.  The injuries remind us that we are not invincible or any better than anyone else.  We are not exempt from sorrow just as Jesus was not.  We need to throw our arm around the one who knows what it is like to walk a road with swollen feet, and blood pouring from his body.  We need to let him help us, because he knows the pain of walking forward when you've been beaten and bruised.  He sees our weariness of heart.  He feels our desire to lay down and quit.  Yet, he never leaves us there to let the vultures eat what's left of us.  He scoops us up and carries us when we cannot put one foot in front of the other.

My heart grieves at the thought that I can so easily shew away this same God-man when I think I can complete this course on my own.  Why must I ask only when I am almost dead for his strength and grace?  I am so thankful that at this juncture, he is teaching me what a constant connection can mean.  My pride fights him, but he breaks it like a twig.  I am so thankful for that.  I would much rather endure the pain that comes from growing than the pain that comes from curling up into myself, staying stagnant-but believing I am moving forward.

I pray for the grace I need to keep pressing forward with the One who knows how to do this life better than any being that has ever lived.  Who I am truly is not solely me, but me with Him.