There is beauty in every season.
But the springtime is special.
All winter we hold onto the hope of new life, of resurrection.
“The winter is whispering green and gold,
And the heart is whispering, too-
It’s a story the Maker has always told.
And the story, my child, is true.”
– Andrew Peterson
And then it comes.
Always brighter and more beautiful than the year before.
This morning I read the account of Christ raising the Widow’s son, from Luke:
Soon afterward he went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a great crowd went with him. As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came up and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has arisen among us!” and “God has visited his people!” And this report about him spread through the whole of Judea and all the surrounding country. Luke 7:11-17
In a similar way Christ comes to the world every winter.
He halts the tragic procession to the grave.
“Do not weep.” “Young man, I say to you arise.”
He speaks and listening to his voice, new life the dead receive.