We’ve lived in the south for almost seven years now and I still marvel at how spring unfolds here. After living in S. Florida for so long, where there is only one season—summer—I just love to watch the trees bud and flower. I love the color that bursts on scene, pushing away the grey of winter. I love being a witness to new life.
Where I live, spring begins its arrival sometime in February (though this year I spotted some in late January) with the daffodils. All of a sudden, my neighbor’s yards had spots of yellow pop out of the ground. They stood in cheery contrast to the brown grass and dead leaves around them. Then the tulip trees bloomed in their purple glory. This weekend, I noticed the tiniest of buds on my Merlot Redbud tree my son helped me plant this past summer.
Each week I wonder, what will bloom next?
While there’s a date on the calendar when spring officially arrives, in reality, it comes on slowly. I know the leaves on my backyard trees won’t be full and green until mid to late March. My azalea bush and dogwood tree won’t peak until April. Each arrives in its own time.
The Bible uses many agrarian illustrations and metaphors to point to spiritual truths. It talks about faith in terms of seed, plant growth, and harvest. It describes our union with Christ to be like that of vines and branches. Jesus compares the evidences of one’s faith to that of fruit from a healthy tree. Such illustrations made sense to those in ancient times where most people were farmers. They lived off the land and understood the seasons of sowing and harvesting. For those of us who can’t keep a simple house plant alive and who pick our apples, not from a tree but from the neatly stacked rows in the produce section of the local grocers, these illustrations take more work to understand.
But I think spring gives us that opportunity to watch and learn how God works in our lives.
Spring reminds us that growth takes time and that we often have to endure the dark days of winter first. My son’s Civic Club planted hundreds of daffodil bulbs last fall in front of his school. Many months those bulbs remained in the quiet darkness. Above ground, it seemed like nothing was happening. But underground, even in the cold of winter, growth was taking place. This is true in our lives. God is still at work even when we don’t feel it. Even in the darkest days, he never ceases his work in us. “…for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13). Spring is a reminder that growth in our own lives and in the lives of others is a process. And we remain a work in process until the day that Christ returns.
Spring also reminds us that there is an end to our waiting. There’s an expiration date to the dark and dreary days of winter—and to the shadows of sorrow cast upon our life. It’s an annual reminder that life rises on the other side of death. What we experience now is temporary; the joy of eternity awaits.
Spring reminds us of this hope:
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:3-7).
So, when spring comes slowly, may it remind us of how God works in our lives. Because he is at work. Always. The fruit will come in its time. The glory awaits. Just watch and see.
Photo by Михаил Павленко on Unsplash
