I
came home the other night from a meeting and declared to my husband that I was
about tired of winter. Now mind you, our winter has been exceptionally mild. We
haven’t seen one snowflake here, and had relatively few days of cold weather—cold
for here in this part of the south, anyway.
But
what we have had is a lot of grey. Like right now as I’m writing. Cloudy, overcast,
with more like it predicted over the next few days. I salute you folks who live
in northern climates for your tenacity and strength to endure a storm like the
one in the Northeast a few weeks back.
I,
however, was born on an early June day with flip-flops on my feet, a Popsicle
in one hand, and a glass of cold sweet tea in the other. And I guess that warm summer
day is how I expected it to stay, but of course, it didn’t.
With
all these sunless days lately, I feel like my hands and feet have never gotten
warm. I wash my hands more often just to feel the warmth of the water running
over them.
All
this to say how excited I was to see this yellow crocus springing up in my neighbor’s
yard a couple of weeks ago.
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Crocuses
say, “It’s not long now. Hang on.”
“After that, the word of God came to me: ‘Zerubbabel
started rebuilding this Temple and he will complete it. That will be your
confirmation that God-of-the-Angel-Armies sent me to you. Does anyone dare
despise this day of small beginnings?’” (Zechariah 4:9-10 the Message).
Sometimes,
in the midst of an ongoing struggle, our own personal winter, God gives as the
Psalmist prayed in 86:18 a sign of his goodness.
And
if you’re like me, sometimes we miss it, because we’re so fixed on the big answer, we
miss the flower of His love,--the “God-of-the-Angel-Armies” present with us.
I’m
clinging to a few crocuses now, both literally and figuratively because I don’t
want to be the one despising the day of small beginnings. No, it’s still grey
here, and I have ongoing struggles and problems that are not resolved, but God’s
given me enough to keep up my hope, to keep me pressing forward into the spring.
So,
for that reason, I keep alert for more of these small beginnings, these precious
harbingers of God’s glorious future.
Christ
Tomlin’s “Whom Shall I Fear”