Still.
It’s cold. (Our forecasted high for Wednesday is 5.) Gritty piles of snow lay scattered on the ground. There are few signs of spring, other than the slowly strengthening sun.
Winter is my past, present and future. It hems me in and suffocates my faith. It causes me to question what I know to be true. I find myself slipping into lethargy and dullness. I no longer look for spring to come today or tomorrow. Somewhere in my soul, I know it will arrive eventually. But I don’t live like I believe it.
I’m weary of waiting. I’m weary of being weary.
But then, this picture pops up on my screen saver.
I remember taking it last May, just over the hill from where we live. The sight of it makes me reel with wonder. The color is so vibrant and fresh, it hurts my eyes. It shouts warmth and growth. I'm flooded with expectant hope.
It's then I remember: Reality isn’t defined by what I feel or what see with my eyes. It’s defined by His promises.
Let us acknowledge the Lord;
let us press on to acknowledge him.
As surely as the sun rises, he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth.
(Hosea 6:3)
Will I choose to believe His spring when I’m surrounded by winter?
I wait for the Lord,
my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
(Psalm 130:5)
