Skip to main content

Jesus came to earth... to die for us




Outside, a white frost covers the ground.  Shrivelled brown stalks stick up out of the bare earth, and the trees stand leafless against the steely sky.  The light comes late, and leaves early, casting long shadows as it goes.  Life and colour has faded away.  This is the season of death.

Yet we know that under the frosty soil, seeds and roots are preparing for their rebirth in spring.  Green shoots will sprout, dancing daffodils appear, and the world will come to life once more.  And between the death and the life, we celebrate Christmas.

We don’t fear the death of winter, because we know that it is only the prelude to new life.  Jesus, too, spoke of his death as the means to glory, and used the analogy of a seed in winter.  If a grain of wheat isn’t buried, he said, it stays just that: one solitary seed.  But when it dies, it can bring forth a whole new plant, bursting with heads of grain.  And he issues a challenge, recorded by all four gospel writers: Do you value your life enough to risk losing it?

But then we learn that our lives have already been lost.  “Don’t you know that everyone who has been baptized, has been baptized into Jesus’ death?” says Paul.  That decision to follow Jesus has already taken us through death and into a different kind of life.  The symbolic burial of baptism – in many churches, shown by a plunge into a pool of water – unites us with Christ on the cross and gives us the gift of his resurrection.  Although winter is still all around us, we know that spring is coming.

So now we have new eyes to look at life and death.  Jesus’ coming reduced our lives to worthless husks, yet gave them more value than we ever imagined.  And death is no longer the ultimate and fearful doom.  Its sting has been pulled; it is now merely a pause on our journey to eternity.

We still grieve, of course.  We still get angry, we still mourn, we still weep.  We still cry out over the unfairness, the insanity of it all.  We still miss the ones we love.

But now we have a hope that can overcome the fear of death.  The hope that Christmas marks the crossing point from winter to spring.  The hope in a baby who brought life into the world – and who died, and who brought life again.  The hope that there’s a new plant inside every buried seed.

This Christmas, may the fear of winter be taken from you, and the hope of spring be planted in your heart.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

National Forest Way: The End!

The National Forest Way finishes at Beacon Hill, Leicestershire, with beautiful wide-ranging views in all directions. I'd been hoping for a sunny day, and this one certainly fit the bill. The frosty earth lay under a glorious canopy of shining blue sky. I parked at Swithland Wood, close to where we finished the previous walk. Finding the waymarker on the first gate was bittersweet - this was the last time I would be following these familiar circles.   Swithland Wood had been acquired by the Rotary Club in 1931, and later passed on to Bradgate Park Trust. The lumpy terrain was due to slate quarrying. I skirted a couple of fenced-off pits. As I left the wood, I passed a lake which I assumed was another flooded quarry, but with an odd little tower next to the water. I followed a road up a steady hill towards Woodhouse Eaves. Many of the houses were surrounded by walls of the local slate. Woodhouse Eaves was a prosperous-looking village with some nice old buildings. Crossing the wide ...

Trent Valley: Nottingham

Five churches, four bridges over the Trent, three stocking fillers, two pubs, one castle, and about ten million fallen leaves. It was a packed walk today. Queens Drive Park & Ride is officially for people getting the bus into town, but there's a little bit at the back marked "Overflow Parking" which had a handful of cars in, so I parked there and snuck out through the tunnel. Bridge number one was Clifton Bridge, again , in all its multicoloured glory. The River Trent was swooshing along after the recent rain, beautifully framed by autumn leaves under a grey but thankfully dry sky. The cycle path took an abrupt left to run alongside the road for a short stretch. Then I approached bridge number two, the Wilford toll bridge, also known as Halfpenny Bridge. Sir Robert Juckes Clifton, who built it, has his statue near the old toll house. He was surrounded by grazing geese. Wilford toll bridge Sir Robert and the toll house Next there was a long sweep of grass with a line o...

Theme: Body

I didn't plan this to be a theme week, but Toby's new refrain has become, "I want to do something else " (how does he know it's the school holidays?)  Something else turned into my digging out my body-themed activities and roll of cheap wallpaper.  So here we go! First thing to do is draw a body, and fortunately I had a handy template.  Lie down, Toby! Just ignore the face.  And lack of neck.  I know it's not a great likeness, but he really is that tall.  How on earth did that happen? He knew pretty much all the body labels already, so I can't really claim it as a learning opportunity.  Still, revision is good, right?  And everyone enjoys colouring on a huge sheet of paper. Another sheet of wallpaper became a blank canvas for hand and foot painting.  Fortunately it's been great weather, as outside is always the best place to do this.  Even with a strategically placed tub of water for washing off in. I've gone gree...