What this spring should really be about (Revolution of Jesus, Part 1)

These days I cringe when I open my front door. I’m waiting for that icy blast of

wind that has kept us captive inside for far too many months. Is it just me, or has this winter has seemed harsher, colder, and longer than most?

I’m ready for summer. And for windless days. But for now there is the sunshine flooding the window with light. There are the fuzzy buds blowing around on the branches outside, and there is this green grass poking up stubbornly through the snow that keeps falling on it.

Spring is a patient but demanding master. It always comes. Life keeps springing up out of the dead things.  Each year the world undergoes a mini-mutiny as it throws off winter’s grip and claims the sunshine.

As Easter approaches, I’m contemplating this life of Jesus, particularly in His final days before His death. And to my surprise, one word keeps coming to my mind.

Revolution.

It’s easy to see why the Jewish leaders were afraid of revolution. Jesus was a common man who became a great leader and teacher. He stirred the crowds with His humility, compassion, and fearless stand against the religious oppressors. He came to a people downcast, captive, and trodden upon.

And on top of that, He healed diseases. He opened blind eyes and deaf ears. He fed thousands. He raised the dead. He met the people at their most basic needs, needs long overlooked by their spiritual and political rulers.

He gave people hope.

And hope makes a people bold. It awakens them, like a world thawing into spring. It stirs them to act.

While the Romans and the Jewish leaders controlled them with rules and force of law, Jesus saw them. Heard them.

When He stood before that tomb of his friend and wept with sorrow, He was one of them. When He called the dead man out and restored him to his sisters, He was God.

Here was God come down into the captivity of His people, walking in it and even grieving it with them—and showing them a way out.

And suddenly life was stirring in the hearts of these people long used to facing death. And they began to think their days could be about more than survival.

The religious rulers were happy with what they had. They loved what they had. They were perfectly comfortable in their captivity. “If we let Him go on like this,” they said, “everyone will believe in Him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation” (John 11:48). The religious leaders were furious because they were afraid.

They were right to fear a revolution. They were wrong to think that they could silence it. For although no one yet understood what it was, Jesus was about to instigate an uprising. This revolt would have nothing to do with overthrowing a government or political system. It would have everything to do with overthrowing the heart.

And when the human heart is overthrown, death only opens the door to life.

Jesus awakened people by loving them. He showed that real revolution begins not by demanding our rights but by letting go of them for the sake of others. He led the way not in taking up arms, but in laying down His life.

After all, the only way to get to spring is to go through winter. And the only way to find out who we really are is to lay down everything we thought we were. Our true life will come from our dead things, just as revolution comes when we allow hope into our deepest need.

During these next few weeks I hope to explore this revolution of Jesus. And I hope it will catch fire in my own heart.