The amaryllis opened its two enormous blossoms this week, revealing pink and white splendor and raising the scent profile of the room to a higher level.
And I am that amaryllis.
And so are you.
Let me explain.
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Sometimes we mess up holidays.
For example, a stranger at the Dollar Store once asked me if I thought there was something not-quite-right about Hallowe’en. I asked if it was perhaps the sweet little kids combined with creepy maiming imagery that seemed off. Or is it just me?
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Sometimes we mess up holidays.
For example, once a stranger at the Dollar Store asked me if I thought there was something not-quite-right about Hallowe’en. (I asked if it was perhaps the sweet little kids combined with creepy maiming imagery that seems off? Or is it just me?)
Similarly, could the way that we do Easter be not-quite-right?
For example, take Easter egg hunts.
Besides the fact that kids are searching for poison in the form of sugar, they have already been accustomed to, after staring comatose at thousands of industry-funded ads over their short lifetimes, promoting dumping the white substance over their breakfast cereals, crackers and drinks, besides that.
Are Easter egg hunts harmless?
My daughter participated in an Easter egg hunt. Several of the bigger, stronger, and more self-obsessed kids pushed others to the ground to gorge themselves even more, slobbering chocolate over the smaller kids sitting nearby, who were crying because they didn’t find any eggs.
But we tolerate this.
Why? It’s likely because the self-obsessed kids won’t listen to us, either. “Come on, Jimmy, why don’t you give some of your eggs to Sally?” we plead.
But they have already been eaten.
Compare this to the Xhosa culture in South Africa.
Kids were told whoever got to the fruit tree first won the sweet fruits. They held hands and ran together. Then they sat in a circle and ate together.
“Why?” the westerners asked. “UBUNTU, how can one of us be happy if all the others are sad?” UBUNTU in the Xhosa culture means: “I am because we are.”
And we are in culture shock again.
What are we teaching our children at the Easter egg hunt? We are the ones setting culture. The children are merely living up to our expectations.
The whole congregation of believers was united as one – one heart, one mind!
The Message
And so, how do we hear a little less noise and a bit more of the wind blowing through the trees and our hearts this Easter?
If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
Ancient Text
We find some love, the kind that has been deposited in our pockets when we were looking for something else, and place a handful in the Easter baskets of the people whose lives we stumble across.
And joy comes to us, too.
For that is His way.
When Jesus died, he took sin down with him, but alive he brings God down to us . . . God speaks your mother tongue, and you hang on every word.
The Message
May you hear the sweet sound of His loving voice whispering to your heart ever more clearly this season, friend.
And may you find some love in your easter basket, too.
The amaryllis opened its two enormous blossoms this week, revealing pink and white splendour and raising the scent profile of the room to a higher level.
And I am that amaryllis.
And so are you.
Let me explain.
About two decades ago, a neighbour gave us an amaryllis bulb in a cardboard package. “Water is all that is needed!” the box guaranteed. Beauty was promised to erupt from within this dry soil and ordinary pot.
I was excited about this, but I forgot about the plant in its little cardboard box in the rush of moving to another city. I felt guilty when I noticed it again a couple of years later. It was strewn between other forgotten items in our garage.
I gave it a few drops of water half-heartedly, looking at my watch as I waited for it to sprout life.
Then I got distracted.
“Well, I gave that a try, at least,” I thought, many years later when I saw the pot, out of its box now at least, but perched precariously on some items that needed sorting in the bowels of our garage. At least my guilt at not having TRIED to bring it to life was dissipated. “But I should give it another try,” I thought on my lunch break one day years later.
But when lunch was over, to-do items kept me running in circles. Days stretched to weeks and months. Another decade passed.
Our kids outgrew even more clothes, and I returned their small clothing items to the garage to deal with later.
“Remember me?” the amaryllis seemed to ask that year as I dumped a pile of too-small clothes on the floor beside it.
“We sometimes have to admit defeat,” I thought to myself, my advancing years having created a deep wisdom, called complacency, within. My few strands of grey hair had made me more rational and truthful. I didn’t look up from the floor as I spoke to myself.
I moved the plant to where we put things going to the dump.
At the prayer meeting that week, we were reminded to ask God to bring to life the seeds He had planted in us long ago. The ones He spoke in the whispers of the early morning hours or through the words of a friend – the ones we can’t quite find faith to believe.
And we were reminded to pour out our disappointments and frustrations to God. And to beg Him to make life sprout from the barren soils of our hearts.
And then I added a drop of water, two, on a whim that day to the amaryllis that was placed en route to the garbage dump.
Maybe?
And life sprouted.
And buds came in the form of hope.
And my soul was watered every time I watered that plant because hope was sprouting in me, too.
When the forgotten bulb in the little brown pot that hadn’t flowered in 20 years burst forth in all its fullness this Easter, I gazed at it in wonder.
And I don’t give up on you, either, Jesus whispered.
Because I know what the soil of your heart is capable of if you let Me pour some water on the seeds I have planted in your life.
Are you ready yet, dear child, to dare to hope in the impossible?
Friend, are you?
God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!
The Message
What impossible seed has He planted that you have forgotten about or nearly given up on? Does He want to plant an impossible seed in you today? Can you squeeze a few drops of Easter hope from dry soil to water this seed?
Consider asking for the strength to ponder this question, clean ears to hear His love, a heart to trust His goodness, and hope from the water of His Spirit.
And may your life blossom in great fullness against all expectations too, friend.
To God be the glory!
(Happy Easter.)
Restoring Life 