I go through the same routine every
year at this time.
I go outside, stir around in the leaves that inevitably make their way into my flower
border, and look for the first signs of impending spring.
As the dry leaves rustle, I softly feel along the still cool
ground. It has lost its snow cover but not yet its chill.
But there in the brightest, most sun-lit part of the border, I usually can find a fresh,
green stalk. It is pushing through the leaves, and other debris, that has blown into
the border during the cold dreary months, straining to get closer to the warmth and
bright light pouring down from the sun.
This is fresh growth. It is new, yet old. Its source is an unseen bulb, buried
deep within earth, that cradled a nugget of life at its core, as it endured the winter.
Its manifestation is the tender green stalk that soon will bear the bright yellow
crown of a daffodil.
This is God's annual process of renewal. For, after a few weeks of a brilliant
display of beauty, the blossoms will fall from the daffodils, the green stalks will slowly
bend back to the ground, and the bulb, deep in the ground, again will slumber, holding the
spark of life safely within it.
As Christians, we too are often like the daffodil. There are times we brightly
blossom, full of vitality and vigor, looking beautiful for the Lord. Then there are
times we pass through the winters of our lives, where we seem to slumber, holding on to
our spark of Faith deep within, but letting it germinate way below the surface where
no one can see it.
Sometimes I picture God awaiting the Spring of our revival acting somewhat like me.
Reaching down to us, feeling around for evidence of new growth. Moving away the
debris of our trials and tribulations to see how well we have grown, how we weathered our
personal winters. And then exposing us to the Son so we can absorb the Love and
warmth and grow even stronger in this unerring light.
As Christians, as we watch the cycle of growth that God has instituted in nature, it can
not help but spark a similar revival and growth in us.
Are you ready to blossom yet? If not, perhaps you need to be out in the Son shine
just a little bit longer
As the dry leaves rustle, I softly feel along the still cool
ground. It has lost its snow cover but not yet its chill.
