It’s March in South Georgia, which usually means that temperatures are starting to warm up, trees are getting their leaves back, and wildflowers are starting to blanket the roadside. Of course, this also means that tornadoes are barreling through our region and that we will see 20 degree temps next week before Spring truly makes herself comfortable for the next few months.
Even though she tends to come in like a lion, I love Spring. Spring feels like a fresh start – like the first couple of months of 2019 were a trial run and this is where we can really begin. Winter is beautiful in her own right, but she’s had her fun and it’s time to put her to bed. I love the warmth of Spring, the longer days, the wildflowers, the baby animals, and, most of all, Easter.
I know Easter is a weird holiday to be jazzed about, but just let me explain.
I love how the imagery of the resurrection plays out all around us with the season of Spring. We see constant, gentle, joyful reminders all around us. New life comes in the form of flowers and leaves and baby animals and birds singing. The bones of dead trees are showing signs of new life and the grass is turning green again. We are seeing the work of Jesus on the ground, in the water, and in the air. He’s in the business of bringing the dead to life – rebirth, renewal, regeneration.
All of creation tells the resurrection story and serves to glorify him. It’s right under our nose. Death and darkness try to sink their claws into the world, but they don’t win. Love wins. Life wins. No power or principalities could keep Christ in the ground. No sin, shame, sickness, secrets, brokenness, or baggage could hinder the extravagant, incomprehensible, fierce love of Christ. And he writes us love stories in each blooming lily, each robin’s egg bursting with a tiny beak, each ray of warm sunlight kissing our face so we will remember that death does not get the final word. That he keeps his promises. That he loves us more than anything. That love wins.
Even on the dark days or the cold days or the stormy days, we have hope. It’s written in creation. And it’s called Spring.
