Like a crocus on a grave, is the flower of my suffering.
Forever stretching upward whilst leaving my sin, my deathly nature behind.
Only to discover that my humanness is strong and another winter is on the horizon.
Where my earthy nature rises up and once again stamps out the blossom of my godliness.
But forgiveness is powerful and mercy rains down on the cemetery of my soul.
And once again the crocus blooms, mirroring the purity of its creator.
And I am taken along on the journey, each time a little wiser and hopefully a little more like my creator.
Like a crocus on a grave, is the flower of my life.
Reaching out to embrace all that God shines down.
And waiting for the day when I will return to him.
Like a crocus on a grave.
This little cutie I found in a cemetery somewhere between Riga and Liepaja. I presume it is a crocus. It speaks to me both of purity and of new life that comes from death. And oddly the two are very closely related.
As we travel on our never ending journey of trying to leave our junk and nasty character traits behind we come across a biblical phrase or concept of dying to ourselves. This literally means submitting our lives to Christ and continually allowing him to take away our sin, of course a certain about of giving is required on our side. But through this death of our oldself new life appears like a crocus on a grave.
And where does the the “purity part” come into it. Well that is the direction that we are heading in. The ever illusive and never obtainable goal of purity. But as we submit our sin and junk the best way we know how to Christ, we take another step forward on the never ending road to purity.