THE PROSE OF SPRING PROMISE

(I thought my computer had eaten this post.  Surprise–here it is like a lily I’d forgotten about planting.  Spring!)

Spring is coming.  I can feel it.  Just today I heard frog songs coming from the wet spots the car transversed on the homeward drive from city to country.  From my window I see robins pecking the soggy ground searching for the creepy crawling things they love.  Daffodils are already yellow exclamation points in the pasture–accidental gardens the cows meander through without notice. But I notice, and my heart is restless with longing.  It’s right around the corner.  Spring and then summer.  Oh, I cannot wait!

And this fever reminds me of another stirring.  A wooing.  A drawing.  A hungering and a thirsting that is not as familiar as my annual Spring Fever–but is even more poignant in my soul.  A “comin’ home to a place I’ve never been before” to quote my old spiritual guide (John Denver in his “Rocky Mountain High”).  I feel a physical rumbling in my spiritual stomach and know that now is the time to feed the desire of my heart.

Oh, I have tried to satisfy this hunger.  (Who doesn’t try to scratch his own itch?)  I have sought knowledge.  I have hunted recognition.  I have even tried to ignore it altogether, but I have fasted far too long.  Now is the time to eat, to gorge myself even, with manna.

Manna?  Yes.  It’s God-food I’ve been missing, and he is right now giving it to me on a silver platter by leading me to read the whole Bible during the 40 days of Lent.  The food of his Word is filling me with enough for today and a desire for tomorrow.  I have never read so much at once! The truths are flying out as I turn the pages!  Flinging and splattering in my face!  He sees his peopleHe hears his children.  And he wants us to look and listen as well.  Rich and filling food!  It is simply not possible to get too much of this good thing.

So I am looking–at the harbingers of spring, at the promises of soon-to-be summer, at foreshadows of homecoming and contentment, and burning bushes, babies in mangers, stars in dark skies at night, and signs and wonders of many kinds.  Ah … Jesus.  Thank you for the bread that satisfies and causes me to want you more.  Thank you for eyes that see more than they use to and ears that now strain to hear the whisper as well as the thunder.

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