Weak. Fallible. Imperfect. Me. I don’t have to look far to see wrong in this world. Looking in a mirror, staring back is the reflection of one who falls short daily. Easter is a life-line – for me, for all who struggle. A life-line held out by the scarred hands of a God who loves big.
The hope of Easter isn’t just a fairy tale. It is the living, breathing God who rose from the dead after conquering all that is wrong in this world – sickness, greed, selfishness, death. All that is wrong in me. And for that I’m eternally grateful.
Jesus’ death ushered in a spring-time of sorts. The promise of all things being made new. We celebrate the One who came to make all things new. To redeem. Rebuild. Give life to the fullest.
Grateful to be a work in progress, being made new. With limited vision, I only see the work along the way. Trusting the great Artist, who molds and shapes each day. Trusting the God, who sees the finished masterpiece.
And so I celebrate, because Hope rises.
Photo courtesy of PhotoXpress