the Poetry of the Soul
Do you ever have those times in your life when winter has simply gone on too long? Perhaps you have had a winter spiritually, emotionally, or physically. Winter has lingered and you have yearned for spring in your spirit. You have yearned for winter to end. Then, you see it. You see the first thing that reminds you that the season of singing birds has come. Flowers poke through dried leaves and you cry out to the Lord, "Yes, Jesus, please. I yearn for the warm light of your love to speak spring in me." You hear the familiar melody of a Father singing over His beloved child. You hear death breathed to life. You witness a resurrection and you weep. You saw life emerge from death. There in that dark moment that is being rushed with glorious life, you take note that you are the mustard seed. You become painfully aware of the cracked hull buried beneath the earth desperately waiting for spring. You wait there in that tomb completely powerless to bring forth or force life yourself. For once, you are dependent. You are forced from self-reliance to rest and it is unnatural. It feels defeating and humiliating, but deeply wrapped in what seems to be a tragic circumstance lies something you cannot even begin to imagine. A tree. A tree of life.