A liturgy for: Spring
hope for the soul stuck in life's winter
Liturgies for the Little Years: In this series, you’ll find words for the everyday experiences of raising young kids in prayer form. My hope is that these liturgies would bring a sense of sacredness, meaning and worship to the ordinary moments of daily life as a parent.
Spring’s Surprise
Several weeks ago, on the first warm day in months, my four-year-old son and I scattered wildflower seeds in our empty garden beds. Shortly thereafter, another blast of cold weather and heavy rain blew in, and I conceded that our seeds were most likely going to be washed away in the flooding. If not that, certainly they wouldn’t take root and grow - it just felt too easy! Surely we needed to do more besides throw seeds on dirt…
As I sit writing this, I’m still reveling over the fact that I was met with none other than tiny green shoots in our front yard this morning. They grew! They really did! And isn’t this always Spring’s way of surprising us?
Already, the batch of warmer afternoons has me gulping down sunshine as much as I can - it’s as if I’ve forgotten the delight of warmth on my skin. On our neighborhood walks, I seem to be met each day with somethings new: swollen buds about to burst into bloom, a purple haze of flowers crowning the limbs of a tree, the song of birds and humming bees, and the green - green everywhere! It happens every year, and yet, the rebirth and growth of the world at springtime is always a shock of delight.
The Hope in the Resurrection
As the joy of Spring begins to burst into bloom, I wonder how many of us feel a disconnect between our external and internal landscape. Perhaps your heart feels a bit more like winter in its cold and barren nature. Maybe you’re walking through a season of loneliness as a new mom. Maybe you feel less than human in the wake of pregnancy or postpartum realities. Maybe you’re frustrated with the repeated sin struggles that keep coming up in your motherhood. Maybe you’re just tired, and there doesn’t seem to be much “fruit” to reward all the work you’re putting in as a mom.
If “Winter” is where your heart finds itself today, I want to remind you of the hope we find in Christ’s resurrection.
On the cross, Jesus took upon himself all the sin, darkness and evil of this world. But then, when Jesus rose again, he achieved victory over these elements of death! Through Jesus’s resurrection, death is defeated! Life has won! For those in Christ, flourishing life is the only possible end of our story. As Jesus proclaims in John 10:10, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
Winter’s Eternal End
Much like the reality of Spring feels in the heart of winter, “abundant life” can often feel so distant and unreal when we’re walking through a hard season. If this is you, my prayer is that the coming of Spring would remind you that likewise, flourishing life is inevitably going to come. Like my wildflowers, believe it or not, life is taking root! Christ’s resurrection secured this reality.
God may not cause our lives to play out as we had hoped or imagined, but we can trust that everything he is working is ultimately for our good and for our life, ultimately found in him. And we can also trust that when Christ returns and makes all things new, life more glorious than we can imagine awaits: an eternal Spring.
I’ll leave you with this quote from C.S. Lewis’s “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.” It’s a prophecy regarding the great lion Aslan, who is to come and save Narnia:
“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight, At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more, When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death, And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."
Yes, O Christ, when you come in sight, we shall have spring again!
A liturgy for: Spring
Spring,
and creation sings for joy!
We feast on color for which our sight was starved;
marvel at the birth of buds on trees
and shoots of green from dirt beneath.
On soft carpets of grass we sink our feet,
while warm whispers of wind kiss our cheeks.
Roused by the wakening world,
we are moved to celebrate,
to thank you, Creator God,
for the beauty and blessings of our own lives,
and to honor all that came before
to bring it forth:
the seeds of faithfulness, buried deep;
the dark, cold days lit by hope;
and your sovereign work,
O Source of life and growth.
And where in life’s winter we find we remain,
the promise of Spring
we choose to claim:
You set the hills to dancing,
clothe the meadows green,
shine light into the valleys,
and you’ll do the same with me.
You soften with your showers,
bring life from barren ground,
bless with bounteous beauty,
and give the earth a song.
My Lord, I trust
in days to come
you’ll let me
sing along. 