A Spring of Hope

There are several reasons why I cherish Easter, some theological, some nostalgic but right now I am meditating on the seasonal change that accompanies the holiday. The pastels we drape on us for that eventful morning echo the awakening color blossoming from the earth outside the church walls. Spring is a season of fulfilled promise. After months of often bitter cold and death, we yearn and hope for Easter, for flowers and green and life. Michala has brought this sense of life into our home by the addition of seeds planted on our window sill. Every day we rush to see what has occurred in the dead of night, desperate for a sprig of hope. And miracles of miracles, life emerges.

Is it any wonder that the season of new life we call Spring coincides with the celebration of new life we call Easter? Jesus tells a story of how unless a wheat seed is broken and dies it will not grow to bear fruit, to bear bread, the bread of life. He is that broken seed, crushed underfoot. And yet the reason we will congregate at all this weekend is that the seed does not remain dead. Just as the basil is sprouting from the soil on my window sill, the crushed wheat yields life and abundant life at that.

I've only been observing this phenomenon we call Spring for 27 years but for some reason, each time it roles around, I am always surprised that it all somehow worked again. I marvel that land so barren and cold could possibly produce such abundance again; but it does, every year. In this faithful rebirth I witness the seeds of hope. My soul is often found wandering in a Winter wasteland, barren and even dead. And as I peer within, I wonder if there is any reason to believe that perhaps once more, New Life will bloom. I desperately await the Sprig of Hope. And miracle of miracles, Easter comes and death is laid in the grave. Miracle of miracles Jesus emerges risen and triumphant. Miracle of miracles, Spring dawns full of color and promise. Miracle of miracles, this very soul of mine find more than courage, more than hope, more than my wildest dreams and miracle of miracles I rise.

He is risen, I am risen, we are all risen indeed!

Becoming King

I finally got around to seeing The King's Speech after numerous testimonies concerning its brilliance. Michala and I snuck away on her birthday to catch a late night showing. We enjoyed a completely empty auditorium which made us feel very important, as if it were a private showing. Despite my a slight fever, we settled into our seats and set our expectations high. We were not disappointed.

By now, most are familiar with the basic storyline of King George's stutter and the help he receives to deliver a speech at the outset of World War II. While the story offers little surprises, it delivers big on content. At its core, this is a story of friendship and transformation and the link between the two. When Bertie (the King's common name to his family) first encounters Lionel, his speech therapist, he is standoffish and unwilling to commit to anything other than pure mechanics. Lionel knows that the stutter is less a product of poor mechanics than of a poor soul and it is only through inner change that Bertie is finally able to produce mechanically. This serves as a great picture of what a group of men I meet with called "being vs. doing."

During our last meeting, we each shared our hopes for our families and careers. Interestingly enough, each of us offered tangible goals as our career hopes, things like opening a restaurant, starting a church, singing music, things that we do. But when we shared our hopes for our families we shared instead rather intangible things, such as our daughters being emotionally healthy and happy, that they would love God and their fellow man, hopes not of what they would do but of what they would become. After this, we posed the question, "what does God our Father hope for us?" We soon realized that He was far more concerned about who we were becoming than what we would do. Even if we accomplished every career goal but had not love, it might just be meaningless.This truth was driven home by the transformation Bertie undergoes in the King's Speech.

Even though Bertie is initially hesitant to explore his heart and not just his mouth, the death of his father begins to bring his pain and insecurities to the surface. Lionel is there to hear him and comfort him. Perhaps in a moment of greatest vulnerability what we need most is not help but a simple presence, especially that of a friend. It is here, that Lionel's goals to "get at" Bertie's heart actually leads away from their professional relationship and towards a friendship.

All throughout the story, Lionel refuses to call Bertie by his proper titles such as "Your Majesty," eventually this becomes indicative of their friendship and of their mutual respect. Later Lionel is exposed as not being an actual doctor and yet, he argues, titles are meaningless without any substance. It is not the title that defines Lionel but who he is and Berte soon realizes that his title also gives him no real rights. Yet in the face of war Bertie begins to find courage to face his own fears so as to help the nation face their collective fears. As he addresses a nation on the brink of war, he speaks of standing up to fear and perhaps he speaks less of the Nazis as of his own demons. Yet he delivers the speech and in the process triumphs over his fears. As he emerges, Lionel looks into his eyes and finally calls him by the name he has finally grown into, "Your Majesty." Bertie is now the true King, not because he has spoken well, not because of what he has done but because of what he has become, courageous.

It was only with the help of his friend that he is able to be transformed. It was only with the help of my friends that my ideas of success have been transformed, and hopefully it with the help of a friend that each of us may one day be transformed and fill the form of who we are with the substance of our being.