Ken Edwards, Senior Pastor

Not only was our staff struggling to keep up with the needs of the church, but we were weighed down in our own grief and pain. None of us seems very good at distancing ourselves from the hurts of others. We love our church family, and we weep with those who weep. In the midst of busyness and caregiving, we often forget to tend to our own woundedness.

The last two springs I have taken the staff on a wildflower hike at the farm of my friend, Jack. It has become an important and restorative retreat for us during the weeks after the busy Easter season. The flowers are beautiful, and Jack is full of life and goodness. The bright spot during that week when the staff was feeling the weight of grief were frequent emails from Jack remind me that “the wildflowers will soon be in bloom.” With some of the emails, he sent enticing photos of early spring flowers like hepatica and liverwort. Last week he sent another email telling me that the bloodroot was starting to bloom. Jack has no way of knowing how much we needed his emails that pointed to the promise of springtime. I kept thinking, Today is dark, but the wildflowers will soon be in bloom.

I thought about the tidal wave of grief the followers of Jesus must have felt on Good Friday and again as they made their way to the tomb. They expected to be greeted with defeat and death, but they were met with promise and hope. That is the message of Holy Week and Easter: God has the power to reverse the irreversible. God has the power to turn defeat into promise and death into hope. Today may seem dark, but the wildflowers will soon be in bloom.