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| Slow ResurrectionDear Friends: Several years ago, I preached a sermon in which I said wisteria was a personal symbol of new life. At least two things happened as a result of that sermon. Louis began his tradition of decorating the sanctuary with silk wisteria blossoms at Easter time, and Jeanette V. gave me a wisteria seedling. I planted the baby wisteria outside my front door, envisioning the entry to my home surrounded by purple blossoms. The wisteria has been growing ever since, but not at a particularly rapid rate. Every year the vines multiply and get longer. Every year the plant manages to put forth some green leaves. But apparently it takes a while for wisteria--or at least my wisteria--to work up to generating blossoms. This year, for the first time I can remember, my wisteria actually looks like a wisteria. Several clusters of purple and white blossoms are hanging from dead-looking sticks across the front of my house. Not a lot of clusters, mind you, but a few. I’m very excited, pointing out the bloom to any and all family members and visitors. I believe I have learned a thing or two from this wisteria. First, I’ve learned I’m better off not comparing my (new) life to others. Some people in my neighborhood have a huge profusion of blossoms on their wisteria vine. Compared to them, my vine is pathetic. But compared to what it has looked like in previous years, my vine has made great strides! Second, I’ve found that God’s power for new life works slowly sometimes. If I look for instant results, I’m going to be sadly disappointed. If I expect to understand everything right away, I’m going to be frustrated. But if I can be patient, I will appreciate God’s gifts all the more when they come. Third, I’ve realized I’m glad that some things take time to develop, because time is what allows me to enjoy them. It has taken 18 years to raise my first child and prepare her to leave home, and now I’m at the point of wishing I could slow down the days in order to savor the process more. If the wisteria had blossomed and faded in a day, I might not have even noticed it, let alone learned from it. Because these flowers took years to arrive, they taught me that “slow can be good.” May this Easter season bring us all a gradually unfolding sense of new life. Christ is risen, and we are still learning what that means to us and to our world. Grace and peace to all, Pastor April |
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