Hope

I have lived in the tropics for so long that I'm not sure I could return to Chicago to live. Once in twenty years we came back to spend Christmas in the frozen tundra, and it almost killed us all. We hacked and coughed for days afterwards. But I miss the changing of the seasons.

Spring exploded into my senses this past May, and I couldn't help myself from stopping every few minutes to snap a photo of a tulip emerging from the damp, fresh soil or a tender, green leaf sprouting from a tree. Everything even smelled new and fresh and exciting. The woods were hushed but expectant.

The seasons remind me of God's grace, that He has set the stars in the sky and the seasons into motion, and has not, and will not abandon us. The sun rises every morning. The snow falls in the winter; it is dark, and cold, and unforgiving, but there is the promise of spring, of warm breezes and more sunlight. Spring comes, no matter how dark and cold the winter has been.

God paints our deepest longings in His creation: spring is our hope that things will get better no matter how dark our circumstances are right now. The backdrop of our lives is not a chaotic mess, but an ordered universe that was created by a loving God who cares for His creation. The sun will come up tomorrow, the tulips will bloom next spring. They have no choice--they must rise and bloom. But I have hope.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13