A New Thing
The year was 2008. I was nearing the end of my first year of university. Spring turned the streets of Vancouver and the university campus from the grey of winter into pinks and creams and green. Blossoms upon blossoms. My favourite where the deep pink magnolia trees. I had never seen blooms on trees that big. And they were everywhere. There was one tree in particular along the path just after I got off the bus onto campus. Every single morning, that last month of the school year, it made my heart explode with joy.
Eight years later we moved to Coquitlam, and much to my delight, my in-laws had planted a pink magnolia tree in the front yard. My love for this early spring bloom has not lessened. But I have come to learn more about them.
First of all, there are many MANY varieties of magnolia trees with blooms of varying colours and sizes. Second, they are actually quite a messy tree. There are the husks of the bud that are split open and fall off, then the big petals, and later on the big green leaves. Always something to clean up.
But perhaps most fascinating is that the buds actually form in summer and then last all winter long before finally bursting into life in the spring. We don’t see them when the tree has all its foliage. But when the tree is bare, you see them there. Perhaps most striking is in the frost and snow, there is already the sign of the spring to come.
I read a quote this week that made me immediately think of my magnolia tree. The context is a bible study on the Kingdom of God, and on that particular day we were reading and thinking about the idea that the Kingdom of God is coming. Yes, it is an already active kingdom, but it will be fully established when Jesus returns. The writer of the devotional, Jen Yokel, wrote the following as a prayer/benediction:
“Those buds you see in springtime? They are grown in the summer, hidden by flourishing leaves. But we usually don’t notice them until we’re sick of winter and looking for hope. May we, in this never-ending winter of the world, in these cycles of violence and pain and loss, continue to endure without losing heart. May we find the courage to tend the buds of new creation through our love and peacemaking, watching and waiting for the day they burst into life without end.”
Bob and I were talking to Elizabeth the other day about courage. It is a strength and ability to do something in the face of fear, pain, and suffering. There is no need for courage when things are going smoothly. And courage is not possible when there is no hope.
The hope that I hold onto is that God chose me, like He has chosen you, before the earth was formed, to be adopted as children, through the work of Jesus on the cross. We have reconciliation with our Creator, forgiveness of our sins, grace poured out in abundance, the gift of the Holy Spirit in our lives, a purpose, a future with Him. A hope. It is John 3:16.
Part of my creative outlet this spring has been drawing in procreate. I shared the rose I did a few months ago, (you can find that here) and the next flower I did was a magnolia bloom. As I worked on it there was a verse that keep repeating in my head: “Behold I am doing a new thing.” (Isaiah 43:19).
God is writing a story that will one day unfurl into a bloom more glorious than we can fathom. The blooms we see now are just a taste of the beauty that awaits us. This new thing that He is doing is the reason we have hope and courage while we live in the “winter” of life. The new thing is new life in Christ, abundant life, both now and fully without end when He returns.
So friend, as Aslan said to Lucy: “Courage dear heart.” There is newness of life waiting beyond this winter; beckoning, on the edge of bursting into full bloom. Hope is Jesus. He is waiting, beckoning.
