The trees of my heart suddenly had leaf and blossom. I no longer ached with memory of them; they were there! The frozen ground softened to mud, then thickened with an embroidery of flowers. Birds whirled and swooped and sang in my thoughts. Life anew! The back of a five year winter of my heart finally broke and warmth and color came rushing back in.
Spring of the heart is a good season. Gone is winters wide gap between what we know of God and what we taste and see of God. Our theology says one thing - God is faithful, loving, righteous, bestowing wonders. But our experience says another - that he's aloof, angry, capricious, dealing bruises. And we feel deeply alone. Even when we are with others. Sadness is a room we can't find the door out of.
So many things in my life have looked dead to me for so long. I have felt dead. Sometimes I have wished I was dead.
But Christ, the Man for All Seasons, met me even there, in the depth of my wintertime. He waited with me. He pruned me. He broke me of more layers of self dependency and deepened my God dependency. He brought me into a fresh encounter with the Him who raises the dead. My dead.
And He has now led me out of winter.
And into spring of the heart.
I dance, rejoice and cry at the Glory of it all.
I wrote this summer of waiting for Isaiah 35. Water has gushed forth in my wilderness. Burning sand has become a pool. Gladness and joy have overtaken me. It has come.