As I have come to this side of Easter, something new grew in my heart. I gave my mind space for holy imagination, and painted strokes to fill in the picture on the pages. My heart journeyed through Maundy Thursday’s agonizing dread and anticipation. Friday’s harrowing grief of brutal torture and crucifixion. Onto silent Saturday. And finally, resurrection Sunday.
Like little vases on a windowsill, stuffed with water and wildflowers, the capacity of emotions burgeon within each day. Each vase holding a million molecules of stories. Their stories. Our stories. Because even when the story line differs, the emotions flow the same.
The dread of a biopsy or an illness. The march of grief in the wake of death. Silence in the waiting. Do you feel the drumbeat deep in your soul?
And, lest we forget, the celebration of life.
That last one is essential, because resurrection people are powerful people. We can be pulled from one vase and stuffed into another, and not whither. So what is the secret? Where do we find this vibrancy?
From streams of living water! Flowing deep in the caverns of our hearts. As we are planted and replanted, the water remains the same. Whether we are planted in the vase of seeming silence, or that of agonizing dread, we can drink deep and flourish.
I don’t want to hold out false hope. To be sure, pain always stings. I have known it sitting in a courtroom filled with dread. And times felt like God’s silence betrayed me. An abundant life is not void of sadness. But an abundant life is always overbrimming with hope that flourishing is possible.
So today, remember to drink deeply. He is a life-giver, in every planting season!
“Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:38
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