If we’re sitting on the porch this week, it needs to be under a blanket with a mug of something hot in hand. Officially, it’s the first week of spring. Outside the window, bright streaks of sunshine stretch across beds of yellow daffodils and red tulips. After Tennessee’s gray winter days, we’re quick to believe that on that side of the window, nature flipped the temperature switch for good. Nope, and we should know better.
Our March has been relatively mild, even hitting 70 degrees a few days. It’s certainly warmer than the devastating, extended freeze in March 2023. To make up for it, the Bradford Pear trees and Tulip Magnolias had magnificent, overlapping runs this year. Their blooms prompted a mad dash to the nurseries by those who lost their self-control. Even the cherry trees got excited and bloomed early and lavishly.
Next in the spring line-up is a tree that, except for two weeks of the year, is nondescript. Its open, understory form is more filler than face in the landscape. But in early spring, the modest Redbud tree bursts forth with reddish-purple blooms thickly covering its gangly limbs. Instead of a round lollipop of color, the Redbud is a mass of purple rope candy. It brings a cold north wind with its blooms to make sure we’re aware of its moment in the spotlight. That’s what is known—in the South, anyway—as Redbud Winter.
It’s the first of what we call our “spring winters.” Redbud is the most severe because it’s the earliest. Dogwood Winter follows in April, almost simultaneous to Locust Winter, since both trees bloom about the same time. Then, Blackberry Winter comes when they bloom in May. We travel up and down the thermometer, and on and off our coats go.
Some say this phenomenon is folklore, but I’m here to tell you that every year proves these spring winters accurate. I remember them back to my childhood. The plants the spring winters are named for don’t bloom simultaneously each year, but brace yourself whenever you see them bud. When they’re in full bloom, temperatures will take a nosedive, and those eager-beaver gardeners will scramble to cover their tender plants at night.
Jesus was the Messiah of the Jews, of course, but not the one they expected. He was better.
Interestingly, the anomaly of spring winters mimics the rarity of Lent and Christian Holy Week. More sacred than Jesus’ coming, which we celebrate at Christmas, is our commemoration in the early spring of His journey to Jerusalem, His crucifixion at Calvary, and His resurrection from the grave.
It begins with Palm Sunday when we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into the city. The Jews waved palm branches and sang hosannas. After witnessing His many miracles, they believed He was the Messiah they had waited for, the one who would free them from the oppression of Rome. It was as refreshing to them as one of our warm early spring days that break the oppression of winter.
But the jealous Jewish leaders put an aggressive strategy in place to stop Jesus once and for all. By Maundy Thursday, our day of retrospection on Jesus’s arrest, we remember how the people’s fickle sentiment changed under their leaders’ influence. Just like cold north winds dispelling our spring, the perfect Jesus went from revered and celebrated to tried, convicted under false pretenses, and crucified in the most horrific death possible.
Jesus was the Messiah of the Jews, of course, but not the one they expected. He was better. Way better. In a supernatural exchange, He willingly took all their sins – and ours – to the Cross and gave us more than freedom from the Romans. He gave eternal life and freedom from every enemy to all who believed in Him then and have since. When Jesus broke the curse of death and rose on the third day—our Easter Resurrection Day—He brought the light and warmth of spring back with Him.
God the Father who made the seasons and all of nature, every bloom on every plant, and every wind that blows reminds us that Jesus the Son isn’t folklore, either. He makes the winters of our lives temporary and the hope of spring eternal with His love, forgiveness, and sacrifice.
Resurrection Day restores life’s charms.