The Astonishing Juxtapositions of Easter.

Total darkness and absolute light.

Evil and purity.

Doubt and faith.

Despair and expectation.

Disappointment and hope.

Destruction and establishment.

Separation and union.

Death and life.

Grief and joy.

And before the latter, there must be endured (not escaped) the waiting after the former.

The tension between the ‘already’ and the ‘not yet’. Both true.

The cross and the empty tomb.

“Easter Saturday” is the waiting on the knife edge between the two.

The waiting. Not the end.

HOLD ON.

 

 

 

jsg/march 18

Thank God it’s Good Friday.

He was not good looking.

He was not successful.

He was not envied.

img_1231

He was a man of sorrows.

Acquainted with grief.  

img_1231

He knew what He was doing for me, and I did not.

img_1231

I betrayed Him.

I rejected Him.

I misunderstood Him.

I misrepresented Him.

I gossiped about Him.

I deserted Him.

I beat Him.

I pierced Him.

I wounded Him.

I killed Him.

That is what makes Good Friday meaningful. Purposeful. Personal.

img_1231

And yet He has come for me.

He always-and-forever-will-be for me.

And you too.

It is unfathomable.

img_1231

He went to the depths, and rose back up.

img_1231

Because of Him, I will too.

img_1231

Thank you, God, for Good Friday.

img_1231

Thank you, God.

The sky is black.

img_1231

Sunday is coming.

 

jsg/march 18

 

The hardy daffodil.

img_1173

Daffodil bulbs look like nothing.

And when they start to sprout through the soil, they could be mistaken for any other flower. Indistinctive green shoots.

But they’re faithful to their growth and – in spite of rain and snow and windy weather – they burst forth in March exactly when we need them.

Fierce little flowers, they never give less than their best.  Have you ever seen a half-hearted daffodil?

Brilliant in colour, relentlessly outstretched, reaching for the sun. Especially piercing in beauty against a cornflower blue sky yet still able to brighten up the dreariest of days.

img_1168

Undaunted by inhospitable environments, they bloom where they’ve been planted.

Daffodils teach me a lot about patience.  And trust.  And doing what you know to do.  And being who you are.  Just because it looks like nothing is happening doesn’t mean nothing is.  Daffodils grow for a long time beyond the scope of human sight.

Then just when you think Winter will never end, suddenly Spring. It’s not “all over” at all! New life has, actually, only just begun.

img_1171

No wonder daffodils are associated with Easter.

Rebirth.

New beginnings.

Resurrection.

img_1141-1

I turn my face to the Son and reach up to stretch out and bloom.

Just like them.

img_1160

 

 

jsg/march 18