Spring Thaw

Pastor’s Epistle—March 2020

Spring cannot be hurried. It cannot be rushed or cajoled or wheedled or bought off. You cannot, by hook or by crook, make it arrive one moment sooner, or one moment later. Spring rolls patiently forward, with neither haste nor delay. You can see it in the incremental lengthening of the days, and in the slow yet steady receding of the snows. It bids us have patience; the promise of spring will surely come, in its own good time.

For Christians in the northern hemisphere, Lent corresponds to the spring. Indeed, the very word “Lent” shares common root with “lengthen,” as we watch the daylight increase and the shadows recede. I know that Minnesota weather often dashes fondest hopes—that March can yet be the snowiest of months, and that flurries are not unknown even upon a May Day morn. But you cannot stop the turning of the seasons any more than you can stop the turning of the earth.

Lent and spring remind us that there are certain things we cannot buy, cannot rush, cannot bend unto our will. We must simply be patient, be accepting, be humble. Every day we progress toward our goal: toward Jerusalem, toward Calvary, toward the Cross and thence unto the open tomb. Our pilgrimage through this valley of the shadow of death will come to an end in the Resurrection, the fruition of all our Christian hope. We can neither hasten the day nor hold it back. We can only, in the words of Augustus, festina lente—“hurry slowly.”

Let us be accepting of this journey; for Christ is not only waiting for us at the end, but walks with us along the way. Let us be mindful of the slow strengthening of the light, the inexorable retreat of shadows and ice. As the world steadily melts away the darkness and the cold, let us likewise divest ourselves of worries, fears, and superfluities. Let us return to the still, small center of all things, where God awaits the turning of the human soul.

Remember that the things which worry us, stress us, plague us with doubt—our busyness, our debts, our ailments, our pride—all this will melt away. We will slough it all off, as Christ doffs His burial shroud when He arises from the dead. And we too will arise not only to eternal life but to eternal liberty as well. Not liberty as the world defines it: the liberty to purchase, the liberty to indulge; but the liberty to be who we were always meant to be: forever forgiven, forever made new.

The spring thaw is coming, bringing waters of new life. And likewise comes the Resurrection, of which Christ is our Firstfruits. Someday the harvest will come in full, the world will dissolve in the fires of the Holy Spirit, and the King will return to rule a new heaven and a new earth. Then will the Son hand over His Kingdom to the Father, and God at the last will be all in all.

We cannot rush it. We cannot stop it. Thy Kingdom will come in the end. Until that day when all hope is fulfilled, we walk the Lenten way of prayer, repentance, and generosity, joyful in the knowledge that Christ is with us all the way to hell and back.