resurrection

Dark thunderclouds roll over the hill beyond my house. Soon the rain will burst, and lightning crash. The threat of severe weather brings with it a promise of new life. The shower waters my yard. Soon Irises will blossom, joining the daffodils and tulips that popped up last month. This season reminds us of resurrection power. Listen to the voice of Jesus thunder as He calls Lazarus from the grave.

“I am the resurrection,” he told those gathered at that funeral.

Another cloud gathers in the highest Heaven. It too thunders—but it’s full of light, not darkness.

“Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,” Hebrews 12:1

The drops of refreshment that form that cloud will never touch this old earth again. Their testimonies surround us with cheers as they wait for our reunion in the new Heavens and earth.

“I’m here—and you will be too,” cries my dear friend, Judy. She loved me to Jesus forty years ago.

“He is indeed the resurrection,” shouts my pastor, Loyd.

“It’s beautiful beyond words,” Chloris, another mentor of mine, proclaims. Herb, her husband, chimes in, “You can do it! Keep running with Jesus.”

The cheers of resurrected saints who finished the race fill the air. Saints who no longer look through a glass dimly—they behold the Father face to face. These dear brothers and sisters who died in Christ now live in a perfect, loving home. It’s okay to miss them and weep over their absence. But don’t let grief rob you of their encouragement.

A dear friend of mine lost her husband to cancer several years ago. She recently posted a tribute to him on Facebook with a picture of his favorite peony, a bush they had planted together in their yard. For those who don’t know much about plants, peonies grow from tubers, like irises. But instead of a single perennial bloom, peonies grow into a large shrub that looks a lot like a rose bush from a distance. Unlike a rose bush, peonies die back to nothing in the fall. The place they bloomed lies abandoned through the winter.

Then come spring—peonies rise from their winter grave in resurrection glory—what a perfect reminder of my friend’s husband. She rests her heart in knowing he still cheers her on; he’s waiting for her to finish her race well.

^“ Therefore, we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

When the heaviness of this life oppresses your soul, look up. Listen. Those who’ve gone before stand at the finish line, calling us on to join them in Heavenly places. Let the new sparkle of leaves and bursting blossoms remind you of the reality of our hope. Open your spiritual ears to the cheers of those who beat you to the finish line; let resurrection power energize your pursuit of the prize.

Father, we praise you for springs reminder. We praise you for raising Jesus from the dead and promising us resurrection power. Thank you for our many mentors and friends who beat us to Heaven. Please, open our ears to their encouragement and our eyes to the glory to come. ~Amen