Just as the Creator promised, the continuity of the seasons confirms that He is, that his word is good, very good even, that He can be trusted, and that there is absolutely no shadow of turning in Him.
When a friend tells you ‘I will meet you at 1 pm for lunch,’ then shows up at 2, here we see a drastic contrast that God is not like this. Sure, circumstances change whereby an employee may be running late for his shift, but God is faithful. Always. Not a minute late. Perfectly on time is He, as His measures are consistently accurate.
‘By the word of the Lord the hinds do calve.’ Do you ever think HOW this happens? Or how the locusts gather TOGETHER and plan their assignments? Or HOW, every year, the maple buds appear, then on their heels the green leaves? Then there is the rain. People who follow such things pay attention to: ‘On this day for the past 30 years it rained 27 out of 30 days.’ Hmmm, I’m sensing a pattern.
Of course it is a pattern, and this return of spring sings the musical score of the Writer and Conductor. The blueprint of heaven can be seen in the spider’s web, who builds that masterpiece in the same spot, year after year after year; then there are the wasps, those annoying and sometimes terrifying flying insects who will at whatever cost, build their nest in the most inconvenient place, for YOU.
The songbirds are back, clapping too for spring. But its the bumblebee which snags my attention, that colorful hovering tiny winged fella that defies logic and makes NASA green with envy as to how it flits, dips, ascends, descends, and just is a plain aerodynamical marvel, and I so enjoy working side by side with them as we have an agreement, an accord as it were, to not invade each other’s space, and this has worked out fine as long as I can remember.
THEY, like God, are not nervous, so unlike the chipmunk or noisy blue jay who must tell everyone he arrived, nope, the bee is the dove of the flower visitors, demure, unassuming, and so does not boast.
God does also not boast, but who the heck cannot notice the consistent cloud covers, the dazzling colors when the sun makes its circuit, the sound of water over rocks tuned perfectly to that cadence which is never routine, the ocher wheat fields of spring, the geese and their Vees overhead, and we must admit: more rain, and more rain.
Rain is necessary regardless of our occasional inconvenience. We do not see the big picture of the butterfly effect, that the caterpillar in Seattle has an effect on the camel riders in Giza. But spring, where hope springs eternal, where nature agrees that the Father of time and eternity acts according to His own good pleasure. It wouldn’t kill us to agree.
Like pictures at an exhibition, the rite of spring proves seed-time and harvest, day and night, winter and summer, cold and heat, shall not cease. Why is it so hard for people to admit that God and His word are good? Oh if men would pay attention to the music of Genesis.