Eastertide II: What is Blooming

My garden is a riot of color! My roses are blooming and blossoming in celebration of the Spring that has sprung! How fitting for the spiritual practice in Eastertide–to notice and to celebrate new life that is appearing everywhere. I was treated to a trip up the coast this past weekend, and even there in the midst of sand and cypress trees, flowers were coming out: lupine on the freeways, California poppies by the road and beach blossoms whose names I did not know proliferated along wood sidewalks and rocky shores. I kept hearing the words of sacred text, “I am doing a new thing.”

The flowering of nature is just an opening act for the new things I have witnessed in the conversations and encounters I have had in these first two weeks of Eastertide. Possibly because I have turned my attention away from clearing out spaces to attending to what is new and possible, my senses are heightened to the way the resurrection power is being demonstrated in ordinary and precious lives. I listened with amazement as one by one people have been willing to chronicle a blossoming, sometimes without their awareness–a new protocol, a shift in perspective, a healing practice, the lift of a cloud, the clear shining through a new lens. All of these call for celebrations. Someone who has been missing is here with us–hooray! Someone who has been ill is finally well–thanks be to God! Someone who been tied up in anger at the “way things are” is freed to act on a solution to the very source of anger–let’s rejoice!

Even as I write this on a beautiful windy, sun-drenched day in Southern California, I am aware that my loves around the world are trying to recover from blizzards, dig themselves out of snow-drifts, or continue to be faced with daunting and terrifying challenges in the days ahead. The darkness is not gone completely. As I walked the conference ground this weekend, I remembered the last time I had been there to work in ministry. It was a week after my mother had died, as had the mother of my colleague who was sharing leadership with me. It was all we could do to notice the beauty that surrounded us. In the chapel, we were led into silence and quiet by a singing duo who taught us a chant, using just these two words, “Light and Darkness,” then  repeated those words twice again. We sang them in a melodic round, and soon the the harmonies emerged and filled the dark space while the candles were lit. It was then that I began to know in my bones that what the Psalmist says is true, “My darkness is not dark to you.” The new things that God has done, is doing, will do, begins in darkness, sometimes extensive, before things become new–my roses, the lupine and poppies, the healing and seeing clearly. But God is accompanies us in the darkness as well as the light, in the underground, in the not-knowing, unseeing, even the hopeless and despairing miasma of our fears and  doubts. I can already begin to celebrate what is becoming new, out of my sight, because I trust that with the Holy One there are no final defeats. All will become new!

I am continuing my practice of looking for and rejoicing in the newness of life this Eastertide–bursting buds and leaping lambs, breakthroughs and miracles–I want to celebrate in trust the things not yet seen, that are growing and becoming new in the dark, believing that even death itself is not the final word. All of it belongs to God, all is in God, and all will, in the end, be well. So I sing my song of blooming today, “Light and Darkness, Light and Darkness, Light and Darkness,” my Easter hymn of praise!

For Michael

Advent Blue 3: Longing for Joy
Two Hopes for Advent: Books that Inspire
Invitations on the Journey: Keep Moving
Going Home By Another Way
About Elizabeth Nordquist

Elizabeth Nordquist is a Presbyterian pastor, teacher, and spiritual director who writes on women's issues, spirituality and Scripture, and what is happening in the world--hers, her neighborhood, the Church and the world. Each day she looks for ways in which the Spirit is moving in and around her.

  • James Findlay

    Wonderful and wise thoughts! I cherish these insightful reflections, deeply, for myself, and all others whom I encounter. Your attention to both New Life and Sacred Darkness is VERY helpful. You bless me, and so many! Thanks be to God for you, Sister Elizabeth!

  • Erin


    Another bullseye for what I am experiencing this week! The new life in my garden with my roses. Then Saturday, hurrying to do a graveside for my aunt and was in car accident and totaled my car but was unhurt (a little stiff). The contrast of Light & Life and Death & Destruction is not lost on me. Must like Jesus walk down the Via Delarosa. Now am moving forward at a much slower pace. Ironic that the lectionary this Sunday (I am preaching) is Saul’s encounter on the road to Damascus. “Hitting the Wall” is my sermon title. Yeah, I did that. :-)

    I Googled Light and Darkness and by God’s Providence came upon this incredible music.
    Hope you enjoy it too.

    Always grateful for your shared wisdom that feeds many and me.

  • Michael Purintun

    I remember that week, and that journey. We are part of the ever-renewing life-giving God of the universe. And as we say goodbye, we also say hello. We grieve the death of Jesus and celebrate the resurrection. And sometimes all within one service as in the Great Vigil of Easter.

    It reminds of something I heard once in some fiction book: “merry meet and merry part and merry meet again.” A sort of pagan expression of the journey.

    We are alternating hot and cold here in Kentucky, but I do see green, and trust that the promise of spring will once more break forth.

    Blessings Love,