The New Life of Easter

April 1, 2001

by Ruth Bell Graham

by Ruth Bell Graham

The old cabin was overdue to be cleaned. The porch and a few rotting logs had been replaced. Now the grandchildren and I were ready to tackle the inside.

The Monday after Easter dawned cool and clear. Somehow restoring, repairing and cleaning seemed appropriate for Eastertime.

We had used the cabin for storage. It was filled with old tires, boxes of books, empty cartons, an old Victorian sofa, a wooden cradle, a case of dishes, assorted chairs in need of repair, an incredible accumulation of junk. And nests of flying squirrels.

The cleanup began with the stacking of old tires. Then something seemed to explode out of a tire—it was a mother flying squirrel. In the tire we found her nest—and two tiny babies.

One little squirrel got away, and before we could retrieve it, our dog killed it.

Later that morning, down in the woods, the grandchildren found a carcass of a wild turkey.

In the afternoon the grandchildren went exploring. Soon we heard screaming and angry shouts. The dog had flushed a mother quail from her nest and then had gulped down her three eggs.

Easter.
New Life: trees budding ... wild violets carpeting the woods ... nests with tiny new things—like baby flying squirrels and quail eggs.

Death: a stalking dog who is part wolf.

Easter in our small mountain cove illustrates Easter around the world. Life in the midst of death.

Death—the hideous result of mankind's rebellion against God.

Persisting life—the reminder that God sent His Son to die for us and to rise from the dead for us, so that we might have life in Him.

The last enemy that God will destroy is death, and every Easter season with its new life will be marred by the specter of death, until Christ comes again in glory.