The Weekend Where Hopelessness Goes To Die

There’s something about Spring and the Easter season that gets me every year. Change and new life are in the air (and also all over our cars, which is less awesome). Kristi and I were talking about this a while back and she was saying how cool it is that God created seasons. “Whenever I get really tired of winter,” she said, “God’s like, ‘Here’s Spring!’ And then, that fades into heat and when the heat really starts to get old, God’s puts the crisp of fall in the air.” I think this is indeed a very meaningful thing.

But Spring? It’s the best, is it not? Every year we watch in awe the few weeks in March when our azaleas bloom and the twisty tree in our front yard sprouts its leaves. It reminds me of Romans 8 where Paul says the earth is groaning–that even it feels and reflects the shadow of rebirth and restoration. And all of this leading up to Resurrection Day. It’s almost as if God has worked these rhythms and cycles into our existence, as constant reminders that things can change.

That you can change.

That our groaning for restoration is not alone, but echoed by the very ground we walk on.

That things can look so dead and hopeless, and then out of nowhere burst with vitality.

That His mercies are new not only every Spring, but every single morning.

This is the weekend that everything changes.

The foundation for every epic story.

The day the Martyr gives his life as a ransom, followed by the day the Hero defeats insurmountable odds and walks out of the grave.

This, my friend–is the weekend where hopelessness goes to die and despair shuts its mouth.

I for one am excited about this Sunday, when our church family will gather to watch person after person go down into the water and splash out among screams and whistles, echoing the story that we’re all gathered to celebrate.

Want a sneak peek? (Also, please join us if you can! Either 11AM or 7PM.)

Also, you probably want to hear the rest of that song. It fits Easter well.

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