A Promise of Renewal

I am amazed by the visual transformation of the world each spring. Outside my front window is a large hydrangea plant. What is a vibrant plant in the summer is reduced to dry, brittle sticks in the winter. Yet, somehow without fail, those barren sticks sprout leaves, and seemingly overnight, what appeared dead is full of life.

The Old Testament book of Hosea describes a time when the people of Israel turned away from God. Their lives became messy, empty, and meaningless. But then God gave them an invitation – an opportunity to return to Him. Listen to how Hosea describes it, “So let us know, let us press on to know the LORD. His going forth as certain as the dawn; and He will come to us like the rain, like the spring rain watering the earth.” (Hosea 6:3 NASB)

I am grateful that spring provides a visual promise of God’s renewal. No matter how dead our lives seem, He can revive us. When we are dry and weary, He can restore our souls. Even when the darkness feels like it is closing in, we can trust that God is there.

I love the thought of the spring rain flowing over my life – the steady and strong rain, yet gentle and restorative. The spring rain brings refreshing and yields life. Like the spring rain waters dry earth, it can reach our darkness and pain and prepare us for a new season.

As I contemplated God’s promise of renewal this spring and watched flowers bloom, I also learned about renewal from another source. At about the same time, the mountains around me were returning to a lush green; I underwent surgery with a six-week-plus recovery.

For me, surgery was a choice. I recognize there are times when we have no other options, but I made an informed decision. My decision came from a season of physical issues, some that I knew would be addressed by the surgery and others that would hopefully be. While contemplating this route for over a year, one day, I determined it was time. My conclusion came when I recognized the promised outcome outweighed the pain, inconvenience, and healing process a surgery would entail.

As you know, deciding to have surgery is only the beginning of the process. For some time after the surgery, recovery was my sole focus. And can I tell you something? Recovery is no joke. It is long and hard. For weeks it took effort to walk, eat, sit, and even think. But gradually, bit by bit, and day by day, my strength returned.

When I propped myself up to eat or pushed myself to walk painfully slowly, I knew this process would take time. A time that couldn’t be rushed or ordered to speed up. Healing didn’t come instantly, and it certainly didn’t come without pain. But my healing did come.

Contemplating the decision for surgery reminded me that I have some areas of my emotional and spiritual life I need to choose to heal. Most days, I find it easier to stay in the known places and have a sense of safety instead of taking steps forward to find life, hope, and joy. But if I don’t walk down the path, I will never experience the freedom that God has for me.

On one of my slow recovery days, God brought my attention to a promise in Galatians 5:1, “It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore, keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.”

As I made this great effort to achieve physical health, I wondered if I would make that same effort for spiritual health. Am I willing to submit to painful surgery – the deep inner work? Am I open to help from God, like I am open to a doctor’s expertise? Am I patient when my growth comes slowly? Am I willing to keep putting one foot in front of the other until the healing comes?

In this season, I want to choose life. That is not always an easy path. But I cling to God’s promise of renewal, knowing that spring always follows winter.