Hope of Eternal Spring

Yep. skipping the morning run was the right choice today. Instead, I sat in my wicker chair at 6:30, damp chill hanging outside, my hands warmed by my coffee mug. I'm drinking in beauty. I have just a little pang from knowing it can't last. Won't last. Four trees in front of my house exploded into color seemingly overnight a couple weeks ago. Three white, one a deep magenta, now already lightening to a rose color. The days of sunshine brought the buds into full glory, larger every day until each tree was a giant bouquet of it's own, a plume of fireworks, until it looked like the branches would break under the weight of the blooms. Several times that week, I saw people driving by slowly just to look for a while. People walking by stood under the branches, gazing at the flowers and the bees. Every time someone mentioned, "These trees are incredible!" My internal thought was, "They're not going to be here much longer! I can't hang onto this beauty, make it stay as long as I want."

John Eldredge's book Desire unashamedly explores these feelings of near panic to hang onto the richness of spring and summer. (Which I know has something to do with the fact that he, like us, lives at an elevation that provides a truncated shot of warm months and induces a frenzy of needing to enjoy it all before the blizzards return.) He mentions how it feels like we've been duped into thinking winter is real. We're genuinely surprised to see buds and green things coming out of the ground every year. The long death of cold winter becomes our normal and we don't quite know how to process spring's vibrant life.

"The return of spring brings such relief and joy and anticipation. Life has returned and with it sunshine, warmth and color, and the long summer days of adventure together. We break out the lawn chair and the barbecue grill. We tend the garden and drink in all the beauty. We head off for vacations. Isn't that what me most deeply long for? To leave the winter of the world behind? What Shakespeare called the 'winter of our discontent' and find ourselves suddenly in the open meadows of summer?"

A day and half of rain has showered the grass and sidewalk with a carpet of petals. Jude and Rhys both looked out the window convinced, "It's snowing, Mom!" (Of course, it was, only how many weeks ago? They're not crazy.")

The twinge of yearning as I see this scene fade is real. Why can't I sit here with my coffee every morning forever looking at this? We love beauty. We love color, and life, growth, green, seeing something come out of nothing. But we know we can't hang onto it. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of the Lord endures. The Word. The very Word that dreamed up and spoke these gorgeous pink and white blooms into existence. Which means, there will be more trees. Everlasting ones. Ones whose blossoms never fade, and bring only joy, no distant thought of any imaginable loss to come. That is our real desire.

"Now. . . what if spring and summer are nature's way of expressing what Jesus was in fact trying to tell us. After all, nature is God's word to us also (Rom. 1:20). If we paid close attention we would discover something of great joy and wonder: The restoration of the world played out before us each spring and summer is precisely what God is promising us about our lives. Jesus preached far more than the gospel of sin management. The good news he brought was much much greater than forgiveness. Jesus came to announce the coming of the kingdom of God."

-Desire: The Journey We Must Take to Find the Life God Offers