Longing to make sense of senseless acts . . .
Waiting for blessings to heal . . .
Tell me, how does one lift the weariness and sorrows of this world as we endure yet another recent tragedy against the innocents? The meaningless atrocities continue as we mourn another mass shooting, another war, another injustice.
Soon the tender sprouts of Spring greenery will cover the hillsides. I look to the creative impulses of nature and God to soothe my distress. Perhaps there is encouragement in the seasonal rhythms.
What to do when the prolonged wait for greening seems to take an eternity?
But the buds do swell and the buds do wait: the green leaves are folded securely like prayers in the tiny, ripening sanctuaries of wood. And in the just-right appointed time, something wonderful emerges from a green nib on the tip of a branch, from the stylus that writes an invisible message in air, before the leaf-miracle opens in splendor from the engorged bud.
Such is what happened to Aaron’s staff as it sprouted shoots, blossoms, and ripe almonds among the tribal leaders of the Old Testament Israelites. (Numbers 17:23)
And when the weary crowds gathered for nourishment upon the soft, Spring grasses of a desert hillside to receive the multiplied loaves and fishes from Him called the Christ, I have to believe they knew in their hearts a budding hope of spirit. (Mark 6:34-44)
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted, saves those whose spirit is crushed.
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