First leaves are out, on this little thorn bush, as well as some tiniest of the tiny leaves on the willow trees. Is that not a happy thing?
This morning, my Sabbath school lesson sent me to those familiar verses in Ezekiel 36:26, 27. They struck me to the core with the beautiful love and creative power of our Savior. Will you read them with me today?
"A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you..."
Wait a minute. Have you ever been tempted to think that your desires for things that aren't good for you, aren't what God wants for you, will never go away? That the struggle against temptations will not only never go away, but also never get easier?
But what if we really accept this promised new heart by faith? Will our desires change then? Or do we fight so much because we like to live from the heart we've always had, the one that always gets us into selfish messes of trouble?
"...and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh..."
How many times do we joyfully take the new heart, but keep the stony heart right near by? It's deathly, to be sure, to have a physical heart as hard as stone, but even more so a spiritual heart as hard as the rocks you don't want in your garden. We're accustomed to it, though, and we like familiarity. We don't let God take away the stony heart.
But think for a second if we did....What would be the result? What would it be like to let Jesus take away that stony heart, to start living out of the new one He makes for us? Do you think maybe our desires would even begin to change?
"And I will put My Spirit in you, and cause you to walk in My statutes, and ye shall keep My judgments, and do them."
You see, the God I serve not only expects amazing things from my life, but also make double provision for me to make a success of right and glorious living. As if an entirely new heart and spirit (think attitude) were not enough, He also gives HIS Spirit, to make sure that new heart and spirit He puts within me are still working properly.
Because He wants me to live well. He wants me to live happily without devastating things in my life like becoming a murderer or a thief (think His law). He wants me to be a beautiful and joyful success story in my life sphere in this world, and be prepared to desire the absolute perfection of the mansion He's preparing for me.
(I know I just posted a photo of a daffodil recently. But THESE are new and beautiful and I couldn't resist.)
Last summer in our move, we nearly lost my jade plant, which was a gift from my grandmother in the fall of 2002. My husband saved one set of two leaves and one lone leaf, and kept watering them all fall and winter.
Here is the result: each original leaf or set now has two new sets of leaves.
Which brings me to a beautiful Sabbath thought: While there is life, there is hope. (I've been searching for the EGW book and page for this quote. I will update the post later when I find it, or when one of you reminds me where it is.)
Sometimes it may seem like there is hardly any life left, like with my plant. But take courage! Even one or two "leaves" with life still in them can be miraculously rebuilt in a human life by the same God who designed plant propagation.
So are a few of the peppers and tomatoes, but I didn't take their photos.
Are you excited with me?
I constantly marvel at how strong a little baby plant has to be to push through dirt, break through a seed-case, and sometimes even shove aside a large piece of bark or a rock to get to the light, which of course essential for it to grow.
Growth isn't for the fearful little plant, the plant who says it just can't see past a piece of bark to the light. It's for the plant that pushes and stretches through the darkness into the marvelous light, finally throwing aside the bark that seemed to keep it enslaved.
Maybe Jesus meant that kind of strength when He compared faith to a mustard seed's growth. The kind of strength that keeps on past all the cumbersome trials, pressing through the soil--indeed, nourished by it--as it gets ready to bear a heavy crop.
Today's leftover rainwater swelled the {very} little creek nearby our house. It reminded me of a childhood home on five acres, a brother and sister on bikes, going out for "flood patrol", which was grand language that meant we were going out to see if any of the deep ditches along our road were about to overflow.
Up and down we road, sometimes finding part of the road submerged in maybe a half inch or so of water, which of course we rode right through. Maybe sometimes the water was higher than that. I don't recall.
Our mother somehow knew that we would be having these outdoor adventures, and never seemed too worried about clothes getting muddy.
Eventually the water would settle, and frogs and mosquitoes had plenty of time each spring to make use of the water in the ditches.
I love spring rains. I love the way everything in nature draws new green from the drops out of the sky. I love the scent, the abundance, the sound of extra water overflowing their normal course.
On a reasonable scale, of course. I don't want anyone losing house and home and crops.
Which is something I love even more about the Water of Life, that Water poured out in abundance that can never be too much.
So reflect with me today about being thirsty. Spiritually thirsty. And then reflect on being....filled, overflowing, yet never wanting less.
"For I will pour water on him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground: I will pour My Spirit upon thy seed, and My blessing upon thine offspring." Isaiah 44:3, KJV
Tulip count for today: 45
Hyacinth count for today: 36
I think there's even a little tomatillo poking out of its little container.
I've been pleased with what the snow has done to the tallest of the tall weeds in our garden: flattened them. I'm hoping that lasts.
Meanwhile, I reflect on my Jesus and his pure river of water of life, both of which I hope to see soon when he comes, who makes even me white as snow.
