February 13, 2024.
On Friday February 2, the groundhog saw his shadow. The Gobbler’s Knob club of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania hosted the annual, early morning ceremony of determining whether a local groundhog, Phil, saw his shadow. Unusual for this event, he did not. Tradition holds that if local meteorological mammal Phil sees no shadow at dawn, spring will arrive in the upper regions of North America early and that the winds of winter are fading away. As of this morning, almost two weeks later, the East Coast is shut down with heavy snow storms. I recall that any time I’d ask my minister friend from Punxsutawney about the annual ritual, he’d just roll his eyes (the same way I try to hide doing when out of towners ask me where to find fudge). My friend is aware that rodents and varmints are lousy predictors of annual weather trends (although, many have the good sense to run away from danger, whereas many of us higher species do not).
I write all of this to say that our spring, our light, our joy comes from the Lord our God. As a church, we heard God’s word from Genesis 8-9 this past Sunday. There was 600 year-old Noah and his family and the many animals he’d bobbed on the flood waters with in the Ark. The Ark was literally a wooden chest covered inside and out with tar. Noah wasn’t sailing, he and his people were protected by God in a watertight box. 377 days they rode the flood out in that Ark. Once they had opened a window, we can imagine the way light must have entered their darkness. First a pinhole and then a beam and finally the darkness flooded with light. When Noah and family were freed from that dark, smelly chest that had kept the water out, the first thing the old patriarch did was to run out and build an altar to God. He saw the first burst of light and worshipped his sustaining, redeeming God.
There’s a story from actress Audrey Hepburn’s teenage years during the World War II occupation of Holland by the Nazi’s. She’d gone from working with the Dutch resistance to being an emaciated, starving young person living with her family in a dark basement. One day, in protest as much as anything, she went outdoors to lay in the sunshine. Her concern about persecution gave way to seeking some light. Noah, seeking the light, gave glory to God for His resumption of light and sunshine, as well as for His protection and providence. We are seekers of light. We want the sunshine and the departure of the winter. Humans find joy in the greening of the earth and thrive in the warmth and light of spring and summer. We turn to the ceremony of Phil and to the weather channel to get our glimpses of spring. Here’s the thing: True light, true joy, true fulfillment comes from the embrace of Christ Jesus. Humans seek light and life, not realizing the light has been with us always.
The Gospel of John 1: 3-5 frames the light that is Christ this way: All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
In a world that can’t find the light switch and uses woodland critters to reassure us that the spring is just around the corner, be a Noah. Be the person who runs from the darkness into the arms of the Lord God and is reassured by Him that He will love us. Run toward Jesus Christ, the hope in a dark and troubling world. He has always been waiting with open arms and He always will. Reassurance from the divine God of creation rather than the created critters and the traditions of Eastern American animal life.


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