On the Brink

“Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain,

Wheat that in the dark earth many days has lain;

Love lives again, that with the dead has been:

Love is come again like wheat that springeth green”

John M. C. Crum  (Hymn 204, The Hymnal 1982)

Mother Nature seems as unpredictable as ever.  The church grounds have both early daffodils and piles of snow.  One day it feels almost summer-like; the next, we’re reminded that winter isn’t going to go without putting up a fight.

Change is coming, though, we are on the brink of it.  Soon all traces of the former winter gloom will pass.  This sense of something coming, rising, changing brings with it a sense of hope, a sense that what comes next is somehow better.  Being on the brink of spring is like beholding a promise: we know where this can lead, even if we can’t quite see it yet.

This serves us as a good metaphor for the coming season of Easter, I think.  We are so attached to what has been, the way we are used to being, that we won’t let go without a fight even though evidence of new life is springing up all around us.  Easter asks us to stand on the brink between sin and despair and the promise of the Resurrection.

Let go.  It’s here.


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