I crossed the threshold of the country road — that place where pavement meets gravel and dirt. Several hemlocks grew on the slope just to the right of the road. They were old. Tall. Bountiful. But here and there branches bared themselves and the lush of its evergreen.
Beneath the massive trees lay several broken, dead branches — victims of the storm from the day before. I stood and considered the carnage littering the ground.
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Lord, You are my light and my salvation, the Rock on which I stand. You are my strength, my peace … You are my joy, Lord.
I understand there is a difference between happiness and joy. I understand happiness is superficial — circumstantial — and that joy remains steadfast, deep within me because it is born of Your presence.
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The blush of dawn unfurled like a delicate rose. Layer upon layer of darkness rolled away, yielding — bowing — to the morning light. Lavender and teal, tangerine and coral swirled together on the canvas of the sky — a palette of exquisite colors proclaiming glory to the Lord, the stillness of a new day echoing the holy hush.
With the unfurling of the morning sky came an exuberant song of praise.
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Lord, whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. When I don’t know what to do, I will look to You. You are my help. You are my strength and my song. My hope is found in You.
As the cares of this world multiply, they are eating at me. I listen for Your gentle whisper, but it’s hard to hear over the noise. I seek You and lean into Your embrace, but the shadows seem darker. I need to hear Your voice, Lord.
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The morning light felt gentle and warm against my troubled spirit. I sat on the porch sipping my coffee, Bible in my lap, birdsong soothing my restless thoughts. I routinely seek refuge on my porch where peace settles over me — where I find contentment that often goes rogue.
“Speak to me through Your Word, Lord. I’m listening,” I prayed.
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Lord, was Your resurrection morning like this? Dawn breaking over a world in chaos, people blinded by corruption and deception? Was there a complacency, a pretense of righteousness among the religious that hardened their hearts and puffed out their chests?
You came Lord Jesus to set the captives free, to open prison doors, and heal the brokenhearted. You came to comfort those who mourn and give them beauty for ashes.
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After sharing the Passover meal, Jesus and His disciples walked the dusty roads of Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives, talking as they went — Jesus trying to prepare them for what was ahead. They came to the Brook Kidron, hoisted their robes high above their ankles, and crossed over to the Garden of Gethsemane — the garden of the olive press.
Olive trees filled the orchard, their gnarled limbs weaving a tapestry of grace and beauty. It was a favorite place for Jesus to take His disciples.
The symbolism is great.
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