There were no thorns in the perfect world. At first God made
all things without prickles or nettles or spines. And then came the day when
everything changed. Everything. Even the ground and plants. Mankind broke the
world, and then came the thorns.
I live in the desert. Cactuses and rocks and dust are the
most plentiful things when you walk outside. But don’t take that as a
complaint. I love my home state of New Mexico, and there is a distinct and
unique beauty to my land that I have yet to find anywhere else. But there is no denying it is usually a rather hard, dusty, incredibly dry place,
where every plant has to struggle to survive. And yet, this is spring. Even here
in the desert, spring is here. Let me share just a few photos of what I found
when I went hiking today.
A delicate bloom grows and lives in the very midst of the
curse of thorns. And not just once. Again and again, different flowers,
different thorns, different places… The entire hike the beauty of the
truth came home to me. Jesus ended winter, ushered in spring, and dealt the
curse its death blow when He rose from the grave. The curse is broken. Jesus
rose, death itself is dying, day by day. Thorns still infest the ground. But
signs of spring, rebirth, and the loosening of Satan’s hold, grow up in the
middle of it.
When the stone rolled away it meant more than just the
Christians' reclamation and reconciliation with God. That triumphant step of
Jesus, walking from the tomb into the light of the newly rise sun; it permeated
every corner of the universe. Every distant star, each leaf on your tree
outside, every hair on your head, the unseen soul in every human, the triumphant
light of Easter has hit it.
The risen Christ makes a difference. Hope is not only
promised now. It is secured and absolute. There will be a new heaven and a new
earth. The curse will be fully eradicated. And the God who rose watches us
today, every thought, word, and deed is under His living eye, as He pleads for
us before His Father.
The thorns grow. But sometimes, God allows even the thorns
to be beautiful. In the midst of the curse, beauty dwells; smiling, triumphant,
just waiting. The world broke. The cure came and rose. The final triumph is on
its way. We dwell in a world of hope.
