Good Friday Dogwoods

 

An interesting legend involving the dogwood tree involves Christ crucified on the wood from one. It’s not true because there were no dogwoods in Israel during His time. Still, the legend persists because of the flower characteristics. Four white petals, each with a reddish spot, signify the cross and the nails.

Our dogwood, likely planted in 1958 when our house was constructed, blossoms this time of year in South Carolina. Its maturity ensures a large crown of majesty and this year was to be no different. We looked forward to enjoying the show.

This year it’s different. Last night the temperature dropped to below freezing and all of those little buds about to declare God’s gift to us, perished. Here’s a photo from this morning where the temperature is still not above forty degrees F.

I look at this photo and wonder if God is giving us one last warning. America, the land of the free and home of the brave, seems to have forgotten the greatest gift of a free choice. It wasn’t about being independent. It wasn’t about exhibiting aberrant behavior. It wasn’t about discarding the law. It was about being dependent upon God, Jesus our savior.

Plants show wonderful recovery from atmospheric and natural causes of injury. Trees can survive up to two years of leaf loss, either through drought or infestation. Fire, on the other hand, destroys any possibility of recovery.

I pray on this day of remembrance of Christ’s sacrifice we take the time to acknowledge God’s sovereignty in our lives and recall how our nation was founded on Judeo-Christian principles. Some of those principles found in the Bible include God’s correction for a people wandering far from His love, many times with fire and brimstone. May God grant the United States one more time of reprieve. One more chance to turn the tide. One more opportunity to turn to Jesus and accept the legendary love of God by observing the flowers of the dogwood.

Randall and My Race

Hebrews 12:1 NKJV

“…and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us…”

Today a friend came to mind. I met him about thirty years ago and assisted him with his business by transporting him the three hours to trade shows in New York City. We became known as twins. We carry the same last name, but he grew up in a Cleveland ghetto with his mother. My parents raised me in west central New York State in rural communities. He’s about 5’ 6”, weighs about 130 lbs., and is black. I’m 6’ 4”, 200 lbs., and not. Yet we have the same Father in heaven who loves us unconditionally, so we love each other. Randall shared an artistic impression through his gift of creativity using the scripture about how there’s a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Although I’ve moved some 800 miles away, we stay in touch.


During our times of travel and sometimes over coffee at his house, we’d talk about a hope one day we could offer a ministry together about our relationship. It seems like a far off dream rather than a goal with a vision. However, I found an opportunity in my new hometown where I hope our relationship can assist others in blossoming into new life.


The author of Hebrews speaks of the trials, persecution, and turmoil in the lives of God’s people throughout their history. Hope is the one thing he brings us back to. No matter our path, our circumstances, or our past, the encouragement of hope brightens all our days. The journey carries us through many tribulations. Many designed to strengthen our character so we can better meet the really tough situations.


Randall and I spoke often of his heart for clearing discrimination based on color. It weighed more than a 60,000 lb. anchor. His ancestors were slaves from Jamaica. He remembers a tough neighborhood where being violent put violence at bay. It’s those old experiences separating us, but it’s not what binds us together. Neither does racism. We lived in a mixed ethnic community for more than half of our lives. Skin colors ranged from stark white, to Mediterranean olive, to brown, to black.


The only race I acknowledge is the one to run after Jesus. In today’s world of political segregation based upon skin color and lies from the evil one, I hope words can begin to be used for good. I hope the story of Randall and me can show vast differences in culture and experiences don’t automatically disqualify friendship and camaraderie. I hope God allows us to minister to our communities whether or not we are together in the flesh or hundreds of miles apart, because I do have a deep abiding love for Randall.


How will you run the race set before you?