“Spring is coming”

As the worship team sang, there they went, first one, then the other. Clad in white robes, they stepped down into the water. As the pastors spoke last-minute counsel and blessing over them, they listened, nodding somberly. Next, a prayer over each head. And then it was time.

Hands folded over chests, pastoral arms solid behind, they dipped back, back into baptistry waters. Then the emergence, dripping, to a sanctuary exploding in applause! Turning, they walked, each one, out of the water and into the waiting embrace of their loved ones to be wrapped in white towels, enfolded in love.

Ah, to be baptized on Easter Sunday. To seal one’s inner commitment in the outward sign that He’d commanded. To arise from clear waters that symbolized the inner washing by the Word, cleansing from sin, and stepping forth into newness of life.

I wanted to weep right there in my seat, overcome by the beauty of it. By the meaning. By all that it signified for them. For us. For me.

Driving along today in morning sunshine, having tasted Living Bread, slaking my thirst on Living Water, He speaks.“Spring is coming.”

I’m looking at the fields, lying fallow and bare. The landscape, it’s brown. The trees, they show no sign, yet, of spring’s advance. No leaves. No green. No fruit.

I’m thinking today of the soul’s winter. Of seasons of barrenness, and brown. Days spent feeling fallow, soul-branches showing no outward sign, yet, of spring’s advance. No leaves. No green. No obvious fruit.

And I remember this: that after winter, spring always comes. Comes bearing the green, sprouting leaves. Comes in wild color, splashing glory ablaze. Comes (oh, I know this) with rich, unsurpassed fruit.

“Embrace the season of death.” She’d said it, and then this, “For it brings the change.”

Oh, thank God for the winter; for all that it works. Thank God for the death and the change that it brings. Thank Jesus for the power, incomparable, immeasurable, of that one Easter Sunday that brought spring; brought life; brought the promise of fruit.

Warmly, and in Him,

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