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It’s fascinating, isn’t it, that Easter is always smack in the middle of Spring?  Northerners, by then, have had more than enough of winter – snow, leafless trees, brown lawns. And suddenly, we see little shoots of green coming up through the ground! Geese come back from wherever geese go – and even though there’s no place to swim, they pair up, honk at passers-by, and plot the exact spot where ten goslings are going to repeat the pattern. Hope.
It’s this reminder that hope is the only thing that can replace the despair and darkness of loss – when our dreams crash and burn. And that’s where we need to look for the fingerprints of God. Like most of us, the disciples – devastated by loss – were pouting and grieving in safety – when they were kicked out of the room to see the fingerprints. And over time…not right away – but over time, they were able to trace the forensics of Heaven, right back to David – then to Abraham – then to Adam and Eve.
The crime scene – the whodunit – the Dateline NBC Mystery didn’t really matter. As cruel and heartless and selfish as we were – the Cross and the Open Tomb were an act of extravagant love. We did our worst…God did His best – and His finger prints are all over it! But understand this; God He won’t spoon-feed His love to us – or shove it down our throats. We have to choose hope, and then we find His love!

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