I went for a jog this morning, and along the trail I noticed something in a new way.  The Camelia is an amazing flower.  The woods for the past month or two have been a frozen gray, and in the midst of the bleak landscape out pops (incredibly, even in the deepest cold and frost) bright pink, white and red blooms.  

It’s sort of like hope.  As harbingers of spring, the Camelia assures us that life will return to the land.  And the message is not merely life, not simply survival or sustenance.  No, the Camelia dares to shout of abundance and beauty.  As Christians, no matter how deep our pain or how wounded our hearts have been by the bitterness of life’s winters, there’s hope that spring will return.  God promises through the prophet Amos that when Christ returns he will usher in a season of restoration like never before, a spring in which grapes grow so abundantly that ”wine flows down the mountains in streams” (some of you are REALLY excited about that promise) and God’s people will rest in the gardens they have planted, enjoying the beautiful fruit of their labors. 

If a pang of emptiness and longing stabs you upon considering this hope, you’re right where God wants you.  The environment in which the Camelia grows communicates the reality of life in a fallen world–death and disappoinment are around every corner.  You can move to the tropics and drink boat drinks all year, but there’s no escaping the brokennness of the world.  Life batters all of our dry bones, so perhaps winter Camelias will remind us that Jesus has ultimately conquered death and gives new life by his Spirit.  Seeing them, we must allow our hearts to risk hope in the face of darkness.

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