07/04/2026
There’s a Japanese laurel in our backyard that blooms earlier than almost anything else each spring. Every year, our family starts watching for it… checking on it almost daily as winter begins to fade away. It has become a sweet rhythm in our home—stepping outside, noticing the small changes, waiting for that first sign that life is waking back up.
And then it happens.
Almost overnight, it bursts into bloom—covered in small, pure white flowers. Bright, full, and impossible to miss. The first real sign that spring has arrived.
Our whole family feels it. There’s something about those first blooms that lifts the air a little bit. It’s simple, but it brings a surprising amount of joy—like a reminder that life is pushing through again, whether we notice it or not.
This year, it reached its peak on Easter.
And I can’t help but see it differently now.
Those early, white blooms feel like “first fruits”—that first glimpse of what’s still to come. Not the fullness yet… but a promise of it. A foretaste.
Easter has passed, but what it means hasn’t.
“But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep…” (1 Cor. 15:20–23)
The resurrection of Jesus isn’t just something to celebrate once a year—it’s the first sign that God is making all things new. The beginning of His great work of renewal.
And the hope we have is this: that those who place their trust in Christ will share in that renewal—that we will participate in and benefit from the redemption of all things.
That is the great invitation open to the whole world:
To repent.
To believe.
To receive His magnificent grace.
(Mark 1:15)
The laurel will fade in a few weeks. Spring will keep moving. But the promise it points to doesn’t.
Christ is risen—the first fruits of the fullness of life to come.
What a beautiful picture of the hope we have in Christ.
