The Buried Grain and the Green Blade
It’s been almost six months since I’ve written a post; our transition away from India and back to life in the US (including walking normally) has taken up most of my mental energy and creativity. But my Easter reflections beg to get out of my head and on to the screen, so here they are…
We celebrated Easter in Colorado, where we were visiting our daughter Anna, and we spent the weekend together with my favorite aunt and my cousin and her family. My aunt took us to her church for the Easter morning service, a church with a long tradition of great music. I haven’t had a worship experience like that in many years—singing together with a large choir, pipe organ, and brass ensemble. Our “allelulias” seemed to raise the roof and bring us directly into the company of the heavenly host, worshipping the Lamb who was slain and is alive forevermore. The beauty of that worship filled my heart.
One song we sang that morning was new to me. It’s called “Now the Green Blade Rises” and it brings to life the profound metaphor of the seed that must be buried before it can emerge from the earth in new birth. The first verse goes like this:
Now the green blade rises from the buried grain,
Wheat that in the dark earth many years has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.
If this song is new to you as well, listen to it on YouTube at this link: Now the Green Blade Rises
I had another experience last Sunday, a dark contrast to the joy of the morning’s worship. I heard on the news about the horrifying massacre of families out for an afternoon at the park in Lahore, Pakistan. I wrote on my blog last year (May 5) about how my local friends loved to take picnics to the local parks. In this bombing, the evidence indicates that Christians were specifically targeted on their holiday, but among the more than 70 dead were Muslims and Hindus as well. More than 300 people were injured, among them many children. Witnesses spoke of bloody picnic blankets and children’s shoes scattered around, and parents and children searching frantically for one another. The pain of that scene tore at my heart.
In my blog post on Easter last year (April 8), I wrote of forgiveness, something I continue to reflect on and work hard to practice. This year I wonder whether those victimized families in Lahore will be able to forgive, and to find redemption for their pain. I can think of no better prayer for them than the last verse of this song:
When our hearts are saddened, grieving or in pain,
By Your touch You call us back to life again;
Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.
May it be so for each of us in this season.
Posted in Uncategorized by Lisa