Blooming Where You Are Planted
“Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.”
Song of Solomon 2:10-12
Each spring, I relish in witnessing the botanical miracle of flowers blooming. I have a particular fondness for azaleas. Azaleas have a special place in my heart because they take me back to Easter gatherings at my grandmother’s house when I was a child—everyone dressed up in colorful outfits, cucumber sandwiches and egg hunting with my cousins.
Yet, for most of the year, azaleas are pretty unimpressive. Their dark green leaves and stout shape are more akin to Bob Dylan’s frumpy hair than to a winning exhibit at the Philadelphia Flower Show, but this all changes once spring arrives. As the days grow longer, azaleas transform into something magnificent. Bright and fragrant blooms shoot out in all directions, engulfing their ball-like frame the way a dandelion mushrooms into a puffball. The change is as dramatic as it is welcoming. Azaleas, like all spring foliage, are a reminder that, despite having endured the dullness of a long winter, spring is sure to follow.
For Christians, spring is also emblematic of a deeper reality—that of Easter. The reality of Easter has cosmic implications for our world. As N.T. Wright once put it, “Jesus’ resurrection has launched a new world in which creation itself is renewed, and will be renewed, until the earth is filled with the glory of God as the waters cover the sea.”[1]
As Christians, we are part of this new reality. What’s more, we are called to live into it—to be instruments of new creation. Like azalea bushes, at times we might appear to irregularly-shaped and shabby, but we are capable of blooming and offering a sweet aroma in the place where God has planted us.
[1] N.T. Wright, “Beginning to Think About the New Creation.”
