Easter Blossoms

We gathered on Easter Sunday and walked through the seasons. Summer, autumn, winter, spring. Creation transforms in front of us every year, and Scripture says that is one of the ways God teaches us.

Summer fruit. The Father is a vinedresser, a farmer with His hands in the dirt. He planted us, and He wants fruit. But fruit is not manufactured. It flows from staying connected to the vine.

Autumn seed. Falling is not failing. It is releasing. The farmer scatters and sleeps and trusts the ground, and God does His biggest work with the smallest seed. Open your hand and let it go.

Winter sleep. The seed has to die before it rises. It is buried, cold, quiet. That is where Jesus was on Saturday. But death is not the end. It is the ground. We grieve, but not without hope.

Spring rebirth. Easter morning came. The stone rolled away, the tomb was empty. Christ is the firstfruits, the first blossom after a long winter, and the harvest is coming. What is sown perishable is raised imperishable. We are the Easter blossoms.

He died, was buried, and on the third day walked out of the tomb. Not for Himself. For us. So that each of us could walk out of our own winters.

Something to sit with this week:

Where are you in the seasons right now? What has God buried in your life that you thought was wasted? Do you believe this?