The Gospel of Spring

Have you ever wondered what God really wants from you? Well, every now and then the Scriptures feel as if they pause, draw us close, and say: Listen carefully. It's in the book of Jeremiah 9:23–24, where we hear one of those rare moments when God explains ... simply and directly ... what truly matters.

“Let not the wise boast of their wisdom or the strong boast of their strength or the rich boast of their riches, but let the one who boasts ... boast about this: that they understand and know me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,” declares the Lord.

Imagine, for a moment, what the world might look like if people actually lived the wisdom woven through these pages of Jeremiah ... that knowing God means practicing kindness, justice, and care for the vulnerable.

It would be a very different place.

For starters, arguments might cool down a little faster. People might pause long enough to ask, “Is what I’m about to say going to help anything grow?” If not, perhaps the words would stay where they belong ... quietly composting in the soil of better judgment.

Conversations might begin to resemble spring gardens instead of winter fields.

Instead of frost forming overnight between neighbours, there would be a slow thaw. Patience would act like sunlight on stubborn ground, and kindness would move through communities the way meltwater finds its way into every small channel.

One can almost picture it.

Leaders might wake up in the morning wondering not how powerful they could appear that day, but who needed a hand up. The rest of us might begin to notice the overlooked people in the room the way spring notices forgotten seeds. With a little warmth, they too would rise.

And imagine the humour of it all.

If people truly lived this way, half the internet might have to close early for lack of outrage. The comment sections would grow so peaceful that someone would eventually ask, slightly concerned, “Is everyone alright?”

Of course, humanity being what it is, we would still have our stubborn moments. Even the earth takes time to thaw. But Jeremiah’s vision suggests something hopeful: that knowing God is not proven by grand declarations, but by small, faithful acts ... kindness offered here, justice practiced there, a life made a little easier for someone who was carrying too much.

It is a surprisingly gentle blueprint for the world.

And perhaps that is the most beautiful part. Just as spring does not arrive by force but by quiet persistence, a better world might grow the same way ... one softened heart at a time, until the landscape of human life begins, almost without us noticing, to turn green again.

Just Like Spring.

Spring does not arrive with arguments.

It does not lecture the frozen ground

or demand that the trees explain themselves.

A small green thought

pushes upward through the dark.

A bird rehearses a fragile song.

The air carries the faint sweetness of something beginning to believe in itself again.

Bare branches that once looked lifeless

open a thousand small hands to the sky,

unconcerned with which bird will rest there.

And the fields turn green together,

no thought of who deserves the light

.

The world becomes vibrant once more

because the sun

is generous enough

to shine everywhere.