Tag: hope

Garlic Harvest

The plants were brown and brittle; it was time to harvest the garlic. With no effort, I grabbed the stiff stalks and pulled the bulbs from the ground. Some bulbs were noticeably larger than others, although I could not see much difference in the stalks.

That’s the tricky thing about root vegetables. It’s difficult to know the health or size of the root because we cannot see it through all the dirt. I had an indication that the garlic bulbs were growing because the plants sent up those amazing stalks and pincushion flowers. But I wasn’t sure they were healthy until I harvested them. They may have been moldy from too much rain.

The first root plants I grew, carrots, were a huge disappointment. Beautiful fluffy leaves, tiny sour carrots. You just don’t know until they are uprooted from the ground.

It’s got me thinking about the thief on the cross beside Jesus. I don’t know but I would have to guess that there was little if anything about his life up to that point which would indicate a good heart. Nothing that was visible or readily observable. In his own words, he deserved to be there on that cross.

And we indeed have been condemned justly. For we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong. Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Luke 23:41-43.

That tiny bulb of faith, invisible to those standing there, was of value to Jesus. The man’s bad deeds were discarded like the brown stalks of my garlic plants. It may seem a little unfair to the older brothers who bore good fruit and followed the rules. After all, Jesus tells us that we will know a tree by its fruit (Luke 6:43-45, Matthew 12:33). This man’s tree apparently bore bad fruit.

If we must be honest, though, our tree probably does as well. We tend to hold the standards we find easy to meet and dismiss the standards which feel unobtainable. But by God’s standards, we all have fallen short. All of us deserve to be punished for our attitudes and probably our deeds as well. Perhaps, like these garlic plants, we have born no fruit at all.

If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sin and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:8-9.

And that, my friend, is the good news. God pulls up the brittle stalks we show the world and finds the hidden bulbs of our faith. Some are large, some are small, all are treasured.

As long as we have breath, we can call out the name of Jesus like the thief on the cross. And Jesus, who already knows you and wants you to know him, will respond. He, unlike us, can see through the dirt and grime of our lives and see what grows in the darkness. He sees that bulb of faith.

And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness. Genesis 15:6.

All you need to do is to plant that first little garlic bulb. That prayer, that scripture, that calling out to Jesus, that instant of belief.

Today, you will be with me in Paradise.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Savor the Tomato

There are moments when life just feels a little overwhelming, when it feels hard even though I know it’s not. There are moments when I doubt what I am doing and why; when I wonder if I am just a happy hamster running around and getting nowhere.

But then, like a pot of gold at the rainbow’s end, I have ripe tomatoes. The birds did not get them; the squirrels did not get them; the blight did not get them. Red, ripe tomatoes grown in my back yard. They are almost too precious to cut into and eat, but I do. Uneaten, they will rot on the counter and that would be too great a waste.

I eat the smaller ones like an apple. They are tangy and juicy and taste like summer. The smell reminds me of my grandparents and my husband. I sense a connection with a long line of ancestors who grew their own food. This is how food should be. A reward for effort and diligence, a gift that grows through God’s miracle of seed and transformation, connecting me with the earth in a way that the ones on sale at Kroger can’t.

I slice and eat the large tomato on white bread with mayo and salt. I only eat white bread with tomatoes and cucumbers in an effort not to overpower their flavors with the flavor of the bread. There is something of childhood in the soft squares of white bread, a simplicity lost in the multigrain, nutty, textured bread I usually favor.

It’s a lot of emotions for lunch.

God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food.” God saw everything he had made, and indeed, it was very good. Genesis 1:29,31.

Too often I go through the motions. I do what needs to be done without much thought. I lose myself in a book or a movie. I eat the food in front of me and talk to the people around me and remember very little of it. This simple meal of homegrown tomatoes reminds me to be fully present in every moment as I am in this one.

This food, these people, these tasks have meaning and purpose. Their stories are the culmination of generations of stories. Our interactions are woven into a tapestry that will ripple through future generations. Don’t breeze through it; don’t let it pass without giving it your attention. Somehow, the simple act of savoring this one tomato sandwich has slowed time for me, infused this moment with meaning, and shown me a purpose in my actions. I work in the garden so that I can savor this sandwich. I write this so perhaps you can savor this moment as well.

We are all so beautifully connected and interrelated, with each other, with those who came before us and those that will come after us, with the earth and everything on it. This moment may only be a drop of rain in a torrential storm, but without the individual drops there would be no rain at all.

I give thanks to God for this moment, this tomato, this opportunity to share His wonders with you. It is indeed very good.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits. Psalm 103:1-2

Love in Christ, Betsy

Leap of Faith

Oh, these enthusiastic cucumbers! Provided with easy access to climbing trellises, they instead reach for the fence and once secure there, leap into space, fully expecting to find something there.

I am a little frustrated that they aren’t as obedient as the tomatoes that grow peacefully withing their prescribed area. But, for the most part, I admire them. Just because the trellis is there doesn’t mean it limits their growth. They are secure enough to try new things, branch out (literally) into new territory, take a leap of faith. The structure is there if they need it, but who knows what new avenues may be available?

Perhaps they know at some level that if their wanderings get too out of hand or become dangerous to themselves or other plants, I, as the gardener, will corral them back into the garden space.

Perhaps we can have the faith of a cucumber as well.

The structure of the church is a good thing. It keeps us grounded in Biblical tradition and the wisdom learned by those who went before us. But that structure is a trellis and not a cage. Listen to your spiritual leaders but take everything to God in prayer. The Holy Spirit lives in believers and is there to remind us of scripture and lead us to truth. Anyone who reads the Bible regularly in a spirit of prayer knows that God reveals different things at different times through the same words.

Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. Hebrews 4:12.

The word of God may encourage us to make a leap of faith. It could be that what we have heard said is no longer the standard; Jesus may be giving us a new and better one. (Matthew 5:21-48). We may love our spiritual leaders and appreciate the structure they provide for our growth, but Jesus encourages us to do more than recite their beliefs. He calls us to listen to Him, to God, to Jesus, to the Holy Spirit. He wants us to put our faith, not in the wisdom of those around us, but in Him and Him alone.

I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. John 14:25-26.

I have faith that The Holy Spirit will correct my thinking if my wanderings go too far or become dangerous to my faith or the faith of others. God wants me to grow and bear fruit. He has put this desire in me, to reach, to grow, to take the leap of faith, to move forward even when the support is not obvious. Perhaps he has put that urge in you as well.

Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand. Isaiah 41:10.

Is there something you have always been told that may need rethinking today? Ask God’s Holy Spirit to open your heart to the scriptures and take a leap of faith.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Crabgrass and Bunnies

I awoke this morning feeling a little overwhelmed by life. Too much to do; too little time. Problems that need addressing; problems too large for me to address. Some days are like that. Some weeks, even years are like that. What is the point, really, of even getting out of bed?

Of course, I do, and early. Too much to do and too little time. Even during my devotional, I have one eye on the clock and grapple with the guilt of that.

And then I step outside to walk my garden. What an absolutely marvelous morning!

Yesterday’s rain sucked all the humidity and heat from the air, leaving a crisp coolness rare for June in Tennessee. The yard is thick and spongy. Bunnies twitch their ears at me and continue munching clover. The creek bed runs clean, stripped of the muck that can settle in it. There are tiny green figs and larger green tomatoes. The sun casts mosaic patterns on the yard as it warms the earth from behind the trees. Everything feels alive and glorious.

I was going to write about the ever-present crabgrass. Those emotions and hidden resentments that burst out through an unprotected space, that selfishness that reacts in anger at frustrating problems and too much to do. Sometimes, when I look at my garden, that is all I can see – the weak spots where the crabgrass flourishes.

Sometimes when I look at my garden I don’t see any of the good things there, just my failures and what more I should or could do. Sometimes all I see is crabgrass.

And then, like a gracious gift from a loving God, there is a morning like this morning.

Invigorated by the cool air, I pull the crabgrass away from my fledgling fig trees and from the edges of the tomatoes. An easy task accomplished to the serenade of a mockingbird. A small butterfly darts among the plants, and a buzzing lets me know that bees are near.

Barely ten minutes have elapsed when I return indoor, a new and revitalized person. What a gift to have demands on my time, people I want to see, people who want to see me. How blessed I am that I am frustrated by no longer being able to start my car remotely. Talk about a first world problem!

What a gift it is to step outside my home and find myself confronted with nature. Sure, sometimes it’s hot or stormy or bitterly cold. Sometimes there are trees down and plants missing and crabgrass pushing through the edges. There will always be something that is not perfect, something that needs doing, some problem I need to address. That too is a gift. A purpose, a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

By awesome deeds you answer us with deliverance, O God of our salvation; you are the hope of all the ends of the earth and of the farthest seas. By your strength you established the mountains; you are girded with might. You silence the roaring of the seas, the roaring of the waves, and the tumult of the peoples. Those who live at earth’s farthest bounds are awed by your signs; you make the gateways of the morning and the evening shout for joy. Psalm 65:5-8

What a wonderful world God has made. We so often sully it with bickering and jealousy and hidden resentments and fears. It is easy to take our eyes off the beauty and only see the ugly, only see the imperfect, only see the crabgrass. Jesus calls us to a better way.

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think on these things. Philippians 4:8.

Love in Christ, Betsy

See the Bright Side

Something has taken three of my cucumber plants. Not nibbled them or broke their branches but taken the entire plant from the ground.

There are several possible culprits. Squirrels are always my first choice for the bad guys, but it’s not their usual method of destruction. It’s not really deer behavior either. It seems more like something a raccoon would do, and they definitely live in my yard. I suppose they could have climbed the fence, but they never have before.

Even more confusing is that they have taken the plants on three separate occasions. What animal has suddenly developed a taste for cucumber plants?

I could get upset about this, but I am choosing not to. Instead, I am trying to see the bright side of this development. Gardening gurus tell me that I should stagger plant my cucumbers, that is, plant a few, wait a few weeks, plant some more, wait, plant – therefore ensuring a longer harvest period. I have always ignored this advice and planted them all at the same time and harvested them all within a few weeks.

This year, for reasons beyond my control, I will be following their advice.

Sometimes, we just need to learn things the hard way. And it makes me wonder what other things God has had to teach me the hard way. Either because I would not follow advice, or because some lessons can only be learned through living through the situation.

My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4.

Now, that is looking on the bright side!

Perhaps I am growing into this approach to trials. I am not upset about the lost cucumber plants, but grateful for the (albeit forced) opportunity to stagger-plant. The disappointing lack of publisher interest in my fiction writing has pushed me to concentrate on a new devotional. A theological shift in an old group has led me to discover a new group that encourages me to question and grow in my faith. Sometimes trials draw us closer to a personal God, a redeeming Christ, a sustaining Spirit.

And if our goal truly is to become more Christ-like, if we truly are seeking the Kingdom of God first, then anything that furthers that end is a gift, a blessing, a cause for joy, even if not for giddy happiness. And this could be true for more than just stolen cucumber plants. This could be true for chronic disabilities, sudden health scares, the loss of friends and loved ones, disruptions of all shapes and sizes.

So, we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure. 2 Corinthians 4:16.

I encourage you today to look on the bright side of whatever trial you are facing. An ailing parent, a struggling child, discord among friends, physical limitations, daily frustrations, cosmic fears, or garden thieves.

Knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. Romans 5:3-5.

Love in Christ, Betsy

The Shift

No matter what the calendar might indicate, summer is here. School is out, the pools are open, Memorial Day is over, and the sugar snaps have succumbed to the heat. It’s summer.

I had a good sugar snap harvest this year. Not my best but far from my worst. It was a little warm and dry for these plants, but the peas were sweet and crunchy and enough to share.

I could be sad about my brown and brittle plants. It would be wonderful if they could grow and produce all summer, but that is not what sugar snaps do in Tennessee. They grow in the Spring, they produce in May, and they die when the temperatures get into the eighties. Instead of being saddened by their relatively short lives, I am grateful for their delicious fruit and the joy of the harvest that they brought me.

Already the rest of my garden is calling for my attention. Leaves cover the fig and the raspberry. The tomato plants grow taller by the day. I have already picked basil leaves, and the garlic is beginning to mature. The garden continues to grow and produce.

After my husband died, I found it disturbing that the world continued. I suddenly understood the old practice of stopping the clocks, covering them even. If you can’t turn back time and bring your loved one back, at least you can try to stop it from moving on. Because you don’t want to get over their death. You don’t want it to be true, and the longer you live with the reality of their passing, the truer it becomes.

But while the sugar snaps are dead, the garden is not. I am coming up on the seven-year anniversary of Nick’s death. Time has continued. New plants have grown in my garden; new interests, new friends, and new hobbies have arisen to fill my days. Maybe even one day, romance may resurface, although I am not planting those seeds and am not ready for it to appear.

I sense the shift, though. Ever so slowly, I am turning my attention from the brown and brittle hurt of loss to the green and growing life around me. The lake beckons. My children and grandchildren thrive. My friend group expands. I find myself going to new venues to hear live music. I am learning to blend the old things and the new things.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1.

I still twinge at the thought of moving on though. I still love my husband. I still miss him. But the hot weather that kills the sugar snaps makes the tomatoes and cucumbers grow. And their fruit is delicious as well. The garden has taught me that different fruits require different environments, that not all fruit appears at the same time, and that good things can grow under any circumstance. This is true in the garden; this is true in life.

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28.

And summer can be a glorious time, full of play and water sports, and vacations, and a break from routines. Summer is a time for beach reads and family reunions, travel and sitting by the water. Summer is a time for red tomatoes and purple figs, cucumber sandwiches and fresh raspberries.

Join me in the shift. Let’s turn our attention from grieving the loss of what was to celebrating what is and what will be.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Fruit!

Like green candy dangling from the vine, the sugar snaps are ready to pick. Crisp and crunchy and sweet. What a joy to have this harvest while my other plants are still in their infancy.

This fruit is not a surprise. I planted and cared for these vines precisely for this purpose. But my plans and effort do not always yield fruit. There have been years when the seeds didn’t sprout, years when the plants struggled to produce, years when I have not been here to harvest the peas.

The lack of fruit in the past makes these peas taste even sweeter.

Like the first morning I woke up looking forward to the day ahead. It was more than a year after Nick had died. Covid was in full swing; the world was depressed, and I was just one more sad soul. I didn’t plant sugar snaps that year. I didn’t plant anything. But it was a gorgeous sunny day, and I was going to spend it at the lake, on a boat, by myself. And I was looking forward to it.

The warm sun, the gentle breeze, the chirping birds, and the ripples of water against the shore were a feast for the senses, a gift from God that had nothing to do with the presence or absence of others.

We try, in this life. We try to be faithful, we try to be good, we try to be kind and loving. We try to be successful, or wealthy, or popular. We try to be good parents and good friends. We plant seeds and hope that they will grow. We water and feed and support. And, sometimes, we think we have accomplished what we set out to do. Other times, the seeds don’t sprout, we aren’t fruitful, or we can’t enjoy our success when it comes.

And then God reminds us that He, and He alone, is the giver of all good things.

Do not say to yourself. “My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.” But remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth. Deuteronomy 8:17-18.

Occasionally, someone will taste one of my sugar snaps and want to grow their own. This is the best reward of all. You too can have this fruit in your life. It will take a little effort on your part, but it is so worth it. You will have failures and unproductive times, but when that fruit shows up, it is wonderful.

I pray the Holy Spirit bears such fruit in my life that others desire it and ask me how to grow it!

In your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence. Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame. 1 Peter 3:15-17.

I crunch on another sugar snap and let the sweetness fill my senses. God is so good in His gifts to the world. Sunshine, water, fruit, hope, joy, peace, and something to look forward to.

I hope you step outside today, soak in the sunshine and breeze, listen to the birds and skittering animals, and sense God’s presence and love. I pray you take His seeds, plant them in your life, and bear sweet fruit to share with the world.

You can’t do it on your own. Only God can do it and only when you let Him. A great harvest awaits and the fruit is sweet.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Community

I have sugar snaps! The delicate white flowers have birthed tiny green beans which I will soon pick and eat. The temptation is to pick them immediately, but I need to wait. The fruit will be ready soon. My mouth waters in anticipation.

These sweet peas thrive when planted close to each other. When their tendrils can’t reach the supports, they cling to their neighbors who can reach the metal rungs. Together, they reach upward and capture the sunlight. I have had occasions when a single plant has grown apart from the others and it doesn’t fare as well. Maybe it has to do with pollination, but I don’t know. Pollination is not an area of gardening that I understand or consider much. I only know that my sugar snaps love to be in community.

And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24-25.

And even as I am grateful for this fruit grown in community, I am thankful for the community around me that encourages the growth of fruit in me and provokes me to love and good deeds. I am thankful for an environment where I can openly discuss my faith, where the biggest risk I face is rolled eyes.

For years now, I have been praying for Christians persecuted for their faith. This past week I have been praying for people in the Maldives, an island nation where Christianity is forbidden. For the ones who come to faith in Christ, they will lose their jobs, their homes, and their families. They are imprisoned and often killed. In the Bible Belt, we talk about Jesus over beers on a Friday night and in our casual conversations at the grocery store. There are Bible studies and prayer gathering just about every day of the week.

What must it feel like to be the only person you know who believes that Jesus was God-made-man who came to save us from death and sin and reconcile us to the Father? Would I doubt my sanity? My belief would almost have to have come from a personal revelation since there are no Bibles or pastors or Christian homes and schools. Without the community to provoke me would I still feel the need to love those who persecute me? Would I still be able to grow and bear fruit?

There are plants that grow in sulfur-soaked waters at the bottom of the ocean. There are plants that grow in hot and waterless wastelands. There is faith that is born not because the environment is friendly, but because God is real and active in the world.

We can’t go to these places to encourage these lone believers, but we can pray that God will protect them and care for them and give them hope and love. As an aside, faithful men and women are always trying to infiltrate these areas of open hostility and share the love of God, not just with their persecuted brethren but with those who persecute as well. For more information, contact Voice of the Martyrs at www.persecution.com.

Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured as though you yourselves were being tortured. Hebrews 13:3.

Occasionally, I sense God talking to me, guiding me through His Spirit. I sometimes doubt my sanity when it happens. Voices in my head and all that. But God is real and active in the world. He can speak to people with such power that they are willing to give up everything, their homes, their families, their jobs, even their lives, to follow Jesus. What would I give up to follow Him?

Today, I thank the Lord that I, like my sugar snaps, live in a community which encourages my growth, pulls me ever upward, and provokes me to produce fruit. If the fruit is not evident today, it will be soon. My mouth waters in anticipation.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Bugs

I planted the bulk of my summer garden this past week. Tomatoes and peppers and basil and oregano. Did someone say pasta sauce?

I had thought I would talk about the gift of plants brought to this healthy state by others with more time and expertise. I’m taking a class on how the church arrived at what is now considered orthodox belief. It makes me grateful that hundreds of theologians could spend hundreds of years in prayer and contemplation to help us make sense of the incarnation of Christ.

But the bugs distract me.

Little bees and larger wasps, ants and worms and slugs, flat stink bugs, and little orange ladybugs. The garden is full of them. The yard is full of them. The earth is full of them. I am told most of them, maybe even all of them, have a critical purpose in keeping our ecosystem alive and well, so I am fine to coexist with them, from a distance. I don’t want to touch them. I doubt they want me to touch them either.

Each of these little creatures has unique characteristics which enable them to do the tasks assigned to them. They are just living their little lives and in doing so keep the world balanced. Like the sea slugs that create beautiful shells they never see, built not for beauty but for protection, these bugs probably have no idea how vital their daily activities are.

A good garden needs worms. A healthy forest needs caterpillars that eat leaves and slugs that digest bark. Without those nasty flies, animals that die in the woods would litter the ground. But these creatures are just living their life, eating, bearing young, dying.

Their lives are short and seemingly insignificant. Who of us has not killed an ant or a cockroach? And yet, if there were no ants and no cockroaches, what would the world look like? We have learned what can happen when the bees and butterflies aren’t around to pollinate. I hesitate to think where we would be without those bugs that eat nasty stuff.

And God created them all and called it good.

I imagine that in the eyes of an immortal God, our lives might be short and seemingly insignificant. After all, He can create stars and oceans and mountains with a word. But God created us in such a way that each and everyone of us is important to the balance of the world, and to Him.

Never underestimate what God can do through one faithful person. Moses’s friends kept his arms lifted until the enemy was destroyed. (Exodus 17:8-13). Balaam refused to curse the Israelites as the king ordered (Numbers 22). Boaz was just overseeing the harvest of his crop when he met Ruth (Ruth 2). Mary shared her crazy story with the disciples (Luke 24:10).

What little thing is God encouraging you to do today? It may seem like nothing, like a worm making its way through the dirt, a caterpillar eating a leave, or a bee finding its favorite flower. You may be helping keep the world balanced. You may be planting a mustard seed. You may be getting rid of some nasty stuff. You have a purpose and the world needs you to fulfill that purpose.

Maybe these little bugs and our little lives are every bit as important as theology crafted aver hundreds of years. Maybe they are more important in the eyes of God.

Ask God how He wants you to spend your day today. You may admire a flower, change a diaper, or help a friend and thereby play a vital role in the universe.

God saw everything that he had made, and indeed it was very good. Genesis 1:31.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Something to Cling to

The forecasted rain has yet to arrive, so I head to the garden to water my emerging plants. The garlic thrives, the beets have yet to emerge, but this morning I am drawn to the sugar snaps. Their fragile tendrils reach into the air in search of something solid. Once found, they wrap themselves around the bars of the supports and hold on as if their life depends on it. Once secure on one rung, the plants grow ever upward.

This is Holy Week. What are you clinging to?

Easter traditions of a meal with family? New Spring clothes to herald warmer weather? The laughter of little children discovering eggs filled with treats? What does Easter mean to you?

The Church offers many ways to observe Holy week – The waving of branches and singing of Hosanna; Holy communion in remembrance of the last supper, Passion plays and the stripping of the church, gatherings in the garden, sunrise services, and exuberant Easter celebrations. The known world was changed forever by the actions of this small group of people in a remote backwater. Because they clung to the eternal support shown to them on Easter morning. Jesus the Christ rose from the dead.

There are lots of big words and complex theologies about the why and the how, about who Jesus was and is, about God’s nature and divine will and the Word. We want to understand that which is so much more complicated and complex and powerful than we are. But perhaps faith is best expressed in a story.

The story of a man who claimed to be the Son of God and was put to death for it. And on the third day, on that non-descript Sunday morning, he rose from the dead, proving that his claims were true.

That is what we can cling to. God did something amazing, unbelievable even. But it happened.

For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with he scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, although some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 1 Corinthians 15:3-7.

Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

We are about to commemorate the beauty of the last supper, Jesus’ obedience in Gethsemane, the horrors of the crucifixion, the despair at his death. It can be tempting to live in that space, to cling to his suffering and his humanity. When we are suffering, it helps to know he suffered as well, even more so than we suffer now. We remember him washing Judas’ feet, dining with him, offering him bread and wine, and know he offers this to us sinners as well.

We can absorb the horrors of Holy Week because we cling to the truth of Easter Sunday.

The wind has been gusty for days now. An outdoor picnic led to plates blown off the table and toys blown across the yard. We were clipping the tablecloth to the table and weighting the boxes of egg dye.

The sugar snaps were unaffected by the wind gusts. They held firm, clinging to the truth of the trellises offered to them.

This is Holy Week. What are you clinging to?

Love in Christ, Betsy