My soon-to-be wife and I hopped in my green Cavalier and made the 5-hour trek down to St. Louis. It was springtime, and we knew we would be married in the summer, and that we’d move down there after the honeymoon, and I’d start school at the Seminary. The rest we’d have to figure out.
We had a lot to accomplish during our short visit. Nicole had an interview set up with the children’s hospital. I had to learn a little about the campus and see what else they needed from me before I came. And we had to find a place to live. The Seminary had some housing for married couples and families, but not enough—at least not at the time. We were told to find an apartment off campus. So we came down to hunt.
I had never been on the campus before. I noticed how beautiful it was. The grand old buildings, the cross-shaped (relatively new at the time) chapel, the grass and plants were well maintained—all of it gorgeous. What I remember most of all, however, are the flowering trees. I don’t think I had seen so many flowering trees in one place, with the exception of the cherry blossoms out in Washington D.C. When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time in Northern Illinois and in Southern Wisconsin, and if there were flowering trees there, they must have been few and scattered. Or I just missed them.
Missouri in the spring is a beautiful sight. Wild plum and pear, serviceberry, dogwood, and my favorite, the redbud, and many more flowering trees add beautiful colors, scents, and new life to spring as the earth awakens and begins to grow again when the dead of winter is past.
We found an apartment on that trip. She landed a job. I got ready for more school. We were ready for a new adventure.
We got to stay in Missouri after my schooling was complete. I was called to a church over on the other side of the state. It was four years later. We found a small starter home with a perfect closing date, and our little baby was just a couple of months old when we pulled the U-Haul up to our home in Lee’s Summit. We were ready for a new adventure again.
Our first home and small yard had three trees—an oak, a weeping mulberry, and a twisted willow. The willow, mulberry, and all the evergreen shrubs created a terrible amount of yardwork for me. But I kept them trim as I could, and always looked across the street at my neighbor’s redbud tree. Gorgeous. I wished I had one.
It was probably about 5 years later that I acquired my first redbud tree. A friend gave me a little redbud shoot in a pot. He had plucked it out of his yard. They spring up everywhere and they’re not hard to find. I could have potted one myself. But he gave me one, probably as a joke, and I took care of it. I watered it. I made sure it got light. I watched it grow.
Nicole was expecting our third boy, and our starter home was feeling pretty cramped, so we put it on the market. Our house sold. We found a house we loved. We put in an offer. It was accepted. We were ready for another new adventure.
The redbud that was given to me was forgotten in the transition. I didn’t lose it, I just lost the remembrance of it. I forgot to water it. But it didn’t matter. The house we moved into has three beautiful, mature redbud trees right in the front yard. Gorgeous.
The little shoot of a redbud was a sign of things to come, though I didn’t know it at the time. But when the new has come, who needs to cling to the old? You don’t hold tight to the sign when the thing it signified is at hand. You don’t patch an old garment with a new cloth. You don’t put new wine in an old wineskin. Why look at the shadow when the man is standing before you?
Ah, maybe now you perceive that I’m talking about Jesus. The new covenant in Jesus’ blood is greater than the old covenant of Moses. The old covenant was a shadow of the things to come, but now the Messiah has ushered in a new age.
· “In speaking of a new covenant, he makes the first one obsolete. And what is becoming obsolete and growing old is ready to vanish away” (Heb. 8:13).
· Released from the condemnation of the law, “we serve in the new way of the Spirit” (Rom. 7:6).
· And, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17).
Scripture makes it clear that not only is Jesus’ covenant new, but He makes us new too.
Tired of the old, sinful flesh? Frustrated with this brokenness and struggle? Ready for something greater? Jesus makes you new. It’s a gift that is renewed and given daily.
Hard times have fallen on our nation and our world. But someday this travail will be behind us. Someday the current pandemic and economic hardship, and all the sorrow of this old creation will be in the rearview mirror. We will embark on a new adventure on the dawn of a new day. We will hear Jesus say, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5).
And in that New Creation, I am fairly certain there will be no shortage of flowering trees. Until then, God desires to sustain and strengthen you daily. Are you ready to be renewed?
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