LIKE A SEED

Yesterday, I transplanted arugula and spinach into large pots on my deck. These plants like the cooler side of spring and I will soon have fresh greens for my salads. I am especially pleased that I was able to germinate these plants from seeds.

I germinated several other variety of seeds this spring; basil, banana peppers, parsley, chives, morning glories, 4 o'clock, and marigolds. Easter came early this year so I started my seed project on Good Friday. I set up a table by the glass deck door where the tubes of seeds would get plenty of sunlight.

There's something a little exciting about putting seeds into the soil, examining each seed and knowing that the design contains the genetic material to make a flower or fruit. Then the soil is gently moistened and then I must wait to see what happens.

Will I be successful? Will the seed germinate? Will I have a seedling or have I seen the seed for the last time?

Maybe, because it was Good Friday, the whole experience reminded me of the Easter story. The body of Christ was put into the ground and his followers thought they would never seen Him again. Yet, on Easter He arose to greet the women who came to the tomb.

And now my plants are ready to go outside. The pepper plant will grow tall and the morning glories will bloom. Spring is filled with the promise of new beginnings and reminders of our faith.

EASTER CHALLENGE

On Resurrection Sunday morning we pause to remember that first Easter, the joy--so great that followers could not contain it. They could not keep from telling the story.

I remember being in college and having a month long assignment. Instead of writing a paper, we had to keep a journal containing methods we had used to share the gospel, daily. Each day, for a month, we had make a new entry. Missing one day without being a witness meant failure. It was a pass or fail grade.

This was in the day before Facebook, blogs, and most people didn't have cell phones. In fact, email was a very new concept to me. Though I did use snail mail to complete my assignment, this was a very difficult challenge.

On this Easter Sunday, I would like to give readers a slightly similar challenge. I would like for readers to, at least once this week, to share the gospel with someone in a creative way--without using the Internet. You can use the phone or mail, though.

Then I would like you to share your experience on this forum.

This challenge will serve to encourage other and strengthen us all.

Easter

Could a story more compelling ever be written? The contrast from Good Friday to Easter Morning is the most amazing of all time. As a writer, I think about all that goes into the telling of the Easter story (complete with the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah playing in my brain) and I want to turn my computer off and call it a night. I will never write anything more gripping, more brilliant.

Truth is more amazing than fiction.

The Silent Day

A professor of a New Testament Survey always gave the same final exam essay question: List the events that occurred from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday. It was a hard question, but each Easter I reflect on what I learned. There was a good bit written about what happened during that week, except the day after Christ died. That seems to me to be the silent day.

A death is a sad thing for those left behind, but if you shared a vision with the deceased--dreams, plans--it is harder still. I think about a parent losing a child. The parent expected to see that child graduate from school, marry, and have a family of his/her own. When the child dies, the parent knows he will never see any of that, never hold a grandchild in his/her arms. A child has died and dreams have died.

The same is true when losing a spouse. When my ex. husband died a few weeks ago, I thought about all the things we planned. We were going to grow old together, be grandparents together. We divorced and dreams died. In the back of my mind I played with the idea that, by some miracle, we might someday reconcile. When he died that silly dream is also died.

The followers of Jesus had dreams, plans, too. The mother of James and John planned that her sons would rule alongside Jesus. Isn't that just like a mother? Simon thought he was a part of a revolution. Peter had only a glimmer of insight and still denied knowing his master. All of the followers had some kind of dream. They mourned the loss of their Rabbi, but they also mourned losing a dream.

Not much is written about that time that the followers hid and mourned, just before the resurrection. Maybe it was all too painful to write about. I kind of think this is an example of an occasion when silence speaks volumes.

Calm before a storm

I am sitting at home, waiting to go to work. Clouds are gathering. We are under a tornado watch. This is the calm before what might be an impressive storm.

It's also Good Friday. I am reflective. There was a calm before that storm, too. Everyone gathered on what we now call Maundy Thursday in the home of John Mark's mother (so many scholars believe) to have a Passover meal. Sure, the disciples felt a storm brewing. Jesus had chased out money changers and alienated many religious leaders, people who had found a place in the Roman society.

--But this moment seemed calm. Then Jesus made his predictions, one would deny him and one would betray him. He told Judas to do what he must do. The storm had begun.

I sit at home waiting to go to work and wonder if this storm will pass us by and I meditate on the storm which we now call Good Friday.