When I look back at this most recent season, what I see are a thousand things I wish I would have done differently. I wish I would have been more patient. I wish I would have depended more heavily on the words of Scripture and the biblical pattern of life after death.
These words from Shauna Niequist's Bittersweet could have well been my own. I've let some present darkness allow me to forget that there is light. I've allowed death to remind me of my frailty, my humanity. I've let Lent ingrain in me the deep wretchedness of my sin.
But, what about Spring? What about Easter? What about resurrection? God's pattern is newness after loss. It's hope after despair. It's beauty after ashes.
Several weeks ago, my pastor talked about murmuring the truth to ourselves. If we can't get on a high hill and shout, we can at least summon a little volume to give voice to Gospel so that we can hear it again. I need to hear over and over again, even if my proclamation starts small.
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