Every time.

The seed must die and be buried in dark dirt.  Forgotten, discarded, seemingly lifeless.  And when spring springs forth, the seed comes to life and becomes a living organism–powerful, beautiful, strong and gorgeous.

And the Lamb had to die and be slaughtered by men.  Buried behind the stone.

Forsaken, judged, condemned.

And after three days passed, Life conquered the grave.  Overwhelmed it big time.

And I have to die to the self I hold on to.  Give it up, let it go, bury it deep in the dark.  Then the life of the Son overcomes me and wins.

Every time.

Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp

#156 His tender mercies toward me

#155 my oak tree in the backyard

#154 reading glasses

Linking up with Tell me a Story, The Extraordinary, Titus 2sday, SDG, Gratituesday, Deep Roots, Miss Elaine-ous Life and A Pause on the Path