11 I ask then: Did God reject his people? By no means! I am an Israelite myself, a descendant of Abraham, from the tribe of Benjamin. 

2 God did not reject his people, whom he foreknew. Don’t you know what Scripture says in the passage about Elijah—how he appealed to God against Israel: 

3 “Lord, they have killed your prophets and torn down your altars; I am the only one left, and they are trying to kill me”? 

4 And what was God’s answer to him? “I have reserved for myself seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal.” 

5 So too, at the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace. 

6 And if by grace, then it cannot be based on works; if it were, grace would no longer be grace.

7 What then? What the people of Israel sought so earnestly they did not obtain. The elect among them did, but the others were hardened, 

8 as it is written: “God gave them a spirit of stupor, eyes that could not see and ears that could not hear to this very day^.”

9 And David says: “May their table become a snare and a trap, a stumbling block and a retribution for them.

10 May their eyes be darkened so they cannot see, and their backs be bent forever.”

Love, peace, and joy; we celebrate these things on Easter. During this time, we receive His forgiveness, His peace, and His joy. Through the death of Jesus Christ, these things are what come to the surface. Death does not have the final word nor sting. All the things that seek to hurt and break our spirit fade. Love wins. Joy wins. Peace wins. God wins.

This victory comes to us through the death of God's son, Jesus. Yet, is it not an odd way to experience the win of God’s will? Why death? Why Jesus? Why would God choose this way to declare His victory? It certainly was not how we or the people at the to time expected it to happen. Victory did not come from a powerful person breaking down government and putting social systems in their place. It was not a social judgment movement nor people protesting in the streets that created victorious change. It did even come as an economic turn around through policies or elected leaders nor a land leveling war or conflict to turn the tides of power. Such a change came only from the love, peace, and joy in the death of Jesus Christ; but why? 



One would think that such means were not necessary. Surly God could have stopped the world from killing His son, right?

How unsearchable the mind of God is. Who could know God more than God knows Himself. However, while this may be true, we must understand why God did not win by doing what WE wanted Him to do. 

You see, as people of God, we pretend to know what is best. We try and rationalize why God must do what we want Him to do for our own benefit and reality. If we protest, we believe and proclaim God is on our side. We turn God into an entity with subjective means of acting in our world and reality. This is not the case. God is the one that knows all, and does not work how WE believe He will work. This is evident in the sacrifice of Christ as well as countless stories in the Old Testament. Hope and love come without protesters. Love comes in without going into Ukraine. Hope comes in not by beating China militarily. The actions and victories of God come through in Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus death is the only way we know hope, love, and peace in this world. 

What does it mean to believe this form of victory?

The day Mary and the woman went to the tomb, they see Jesus was not there. He had risen, and with this news, returned to the apostles to spread this good news. However, none of the apostles believed them, not out of a lack of faith, but out of a sense of confusion and realization. What it would mean for to know Jesus had risen would validate everything they had been preaching. This solidified fact of the resurrection would change the narrative and validate the truth that Jesus is the son of God.

When we think about what that means, it comes to us a challenge. This thought or feeling challenges us as people who live in a word of fear, rules, and distractions. When we raise our fists up against government, all we do is kill Jesus. When Jesus is not on our side, we fight with ourselves and others to see who is right. This is why Jesus could not come in the form of change we expected Him to come in. Jesus had to die when confronted with our human way of confrontation, and in spite of it, concurred death to reveal His true plan. Through His wisdom, true freedom could only have resulted though Christs death; a sacrifice so powerful, that it would change the landscape of shifts of power without picking sides or lifting fists. Our only hope for everlasting love and hope is in embracing that we are powerless to bring the change to the world we seek. In our attempt to do it, we will kill the very things God brings to us from Jesus. 

If there were a way for us to celebrate Easter, it would be to say this; because Christ is raised from the dead, and because He lives, it is the only reason I can face tomorrow. Through Christ, we are saved. 

Amen. 

A friend of mine texted me last night to tell me that she had spent the warmest day since last fall dealing with her yard’s snow mold. I’ve talked of snow mold over the years many times, referencing my strange brief allergy symptoms I have at this time of year when the grass—once wet and cold and covered with snow—is revealed in all its gross, smushed-down with dead leaves, yuckiness. My allergies are not the long Spring-budding ones like others in my family (and I just sympathetically sneezed thinking about them—I literally did!). According to my last allergy tests (the pricks on my arms and back) the only tree I am allergic to is the beloved birch. I love birch trees, the rugged white bark, but they don’t love me when they bud. But I guess I’m allergic to the snow mold that reveals itself before the sun can cook it away. 

So this year when my friend mentioned her snow mold, I decided to learn a bit more about my offender. What I found on the internet told me that it is a fungus that can be either white (Typhula) or pink (Fusarium) in variety. It is a lawn disease that both looks like snow and can infect grass as the real snow melts. As it gets warmer after the winter, the effects can be seen in straw-colored grass that has been killed by the mold. What I also learned is that the spores of this fungus live in the ground year-round, but they remain inactive in extreme temperatures. There is a sweet spot the mold flourishes in—when the temperature gets to be between 32 and 45°F— and the soil gets soggy from melting snow. The more the snow melting (and we had a lot this year) the more likely there is to be snow mold. 

So why am I writing about snow mold in a church newsletter? Because, as a writer, my mind often goes to metaphorical connections I see around me. And being a women of faith, those connections often redirect me to my faith life.

Recently I’ve been feeling like after so much loss, stress, and burdens in my life—the kind that piles up like the inches and feet of ice and snow this past winter—that I may be suffering from some internal mold. Not literal mold that grows on the ground, or my old citrus fruit found in the back of my refrigerator door, or even the kind that requires some type of anti-fungal medicine like you’d ingest if you had an infection, like you are supposed to put on your lawn that has snow mold. It is the kind of mold that attaches itself and grows in your soul. 

Soul mold, I can imagine, comes about because of some type of disconnect with God during dark and difficult times. Because mold grows in lack of light and sunshine, and God is light, and since God doesn’t disconnect from us…it must be a disconnect on my end. The burdens of life, like the piles of snow, the coldness of going through it all, the sogginess of grief. That is the basic metaphor for why my soul might be a bit moldy. Too much darkness, too much dwelling in sadness, too many tears, too much fear in a life without enough time in God’s word and prayer. 

Yes, I prayed for my dad when he was sick and dying, and for others in my life, too, but to be honest, I didn’t pray much for my own situation. Because, if I were to actually admit it in prayer, then I would bring light (God’s light) to it, right? Bring light to my depression. Yes, I realize God knows everything anyway—kinda silly thinking I could hide it all from God, huh?. But it is easier for me to not admit it to myself, to just shove it under the packed down snow-stress and “just deal with it” day-to-day, than admit: yes, I am depressed that my dad died and I couldn’t do a thing to save him. Of course, I knew in my mind that if the doctors couldn’t, how could I? And in my heart I knew that God was calling him home to be with my mom, and was happy in this. But my soul was still feeling the darkness of a disconnection at not being able to fully give my burdens and grief over to Jesus. I would hand them over for a time and then take them back again and again and again. By doing so, I was allowing the mold of my soul fester and grow.

So how do you get rid of snow mold before is kills your lawn, drying it out and unable to grow into its full potential of green? Of course there are preventative things that are suggested like: mowing your lawn short before the first snow, put fungicide down in the fall, don’t be lazy and let all your lawn clippings and fallen leaves pile up to get trapped under the snow—bag them up and get rid of them. Don’t let snow pile up on your lawn (well that one is a bit easier said than done—who shovels their yard?).  

If you apply this thought to soul mold, I suppose that means reading scripture and singing praise songs to rid the mold from taking hold of your spirit; keep your prayer life vigilant. Don’t let burdens pile up, and don’t horde them so that when others come they weigh heavier still. Bag them up and hand them over to Jesus (who has regular and frequent collection times whenever you need). And please don’t try to wrestle the bags of burdens back from God. 

In our lives we are bound to have times when even the most preventative faith measures cannot help us from getting soggy from life, from depression, from withdrawing a bit from God. We are only human, after all. We cannot always anticipate the amount of snow that might get piled onto our yards in any given season, and what affect it will have on us. 

But there is good news for our lawns and even better news for our souls. Sunshine, and Son-shine. 

When the sun reaches the snow mold, it will dry up the fungus, do away with it and restore the health of the lawn. Yes, there might be weaker, more fragile, spots, so gently rake over them to pull the dead grass away, and to dry out the lawn quicker. You can even apply some new grass seed to the areas. In time, with sunshine and restorative rain, it will replenish. 

So, too, with our soul mold. Gently, and honestly, tend to the fragile parts of yourself. Rake away what is dried out and getting in the way of your healing (like my guilt at not being able to save my dad) add in some seeds of God’s word and prayer back into the soil of your life. Allow the love of Jesus to shine onto your brokenness and heal your sadness and depression. Ask for help when you need it of family, friends, therapists, too. They want to help you garden well. And know that there is nothing innately wrong with you if you are suffering some soul mold—we all do at some time or another. Life brings with it some intense and long winters, but God’s love always brings spring’s miraculous healing light. Any damage done by the burden of snow is no match for the son…the life-giving light, love, and grace given by God, through Jesus Christ.

Amen.