Paul in our reading today talks about how creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God, and I think of the crocuses pushing their way up through the remains of winter. Spring is near. In the dry, dead leaves lying in the garden like discarded, yellowing newspaper pages these bright flowers have winked into being. They stare up at me, audacious and joyful. They have arrived, and in their gorgeous opulence they expect to be noticed. And who can deny them? Purple as rich and deep as velvet, a yellow so bright it seems to crack the air, the orange of flame and beach balls – everywhere I look my eye is surprised and delighted.
We are like that, you and I. We are like crocuses in the brown flower beds. The children of God are something special. We are heirs, joint heirs with Christ, of God’s freedom and glory. Pushing our way into the light we bring to the world color that has never been seen before. We are meant for nothing less than setting the world free from its bondage to decay.
This is not because of anything we have thought or felt or accomplished. It comes from the place in us where the Spirit dwells, the place where we rest in God. Our roots suck deeply of the nutrients of the dark rich soil that is God, drawing life upward into the air. The indwelling Christ flows through our new stalk and leaves, joining us with all that is, human, animal, and mineral. This “one-ing” as Julian of Norwich calls it, is always creative, always revelatory, always right here and right now. It is salvational.
In these final days before the beginning of Holy Week, let us ask for the grace to exercise the disciplines that free us into one-ing with Jesus. As we breathe together in the Spirit, may our hearts beat with the rhythm of our Creator. And may our bright colors amid the grasses bring the world joy.
Laurie Gudim is a writer and religious iconographer who lives in Fort Collins, CO. You can view some of her work at Everyday Mysteries.
Photo by Ann Fontaine