From the Garden to Glory: How Easter and Spring Remind Us of God’s Unfailing Faithfulness

How was your Easter? Has its message stayed with you?

I admit, in the weeks leading up to Easter, I was more Martha than Mary—more focused on doing than being. My days were filled with good things: writing my biblical novel, connecting with the Network of Biblical Storytellers, and attending our Seeds of Faith book group. But even in these meaningful activities, I found myself swept up in the motion rather than pausing in devotion.

Then came Holy Week, and with it, Maundy Thursday. I had the privilege of being one of the biblical storytellers sharing Jesus’ journey to the cross. My passage was the scene in Gethsemane. It struck me deeply—Jesus, knowing all that was to come, still chose to pray, even though his beloved disciples fell asleep. In his greatest hour of need, he was alone, abandoned.

One of the other storytellers had the most difficult section—the brutal beating, the mockery, the crown of thorns. She paused, overcome. In that moment, I prayed, willing her through tears to go on. She did, voice cracking, and suddenly, the story I’ve heard all my life pierced my heart in a new way.

It stayed with me.

But Easter morning brought Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.” I closed my eyes as the twenty-one-person choir sang, trumpets and organ swelling together. The music felt like heaven breaking through. I imagined choirs around the world joining in one glorious, unending song. A weight lifted from my shoulders. Grief turned into gratitude.

This is the faithfulness of God. From the agony of Gethsemane to the joy of resurrection, He does not faint or grow weary (Isaiah 40:28). He is always giving—offering us new life, fresh starts, and reminders of beauty even when we don’t deserve them.

Spring reflects this same rhythm. The earth, once quiet and bare, starts to stir again. It doesn’t arrive all at once, but gradually. Forsythia bursting yellow. Daffodils trumpet shape heralding spring. Then tulips, cherry trees, dogwoods. The buds on trees that whisper, “I’m still here. I’m still creating.”

It’s the echo of Genesis 1: “Let there be light.” And there is.
The reminder of Psalm 139: “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
The truth of John 1:3: “All things were made through Him.”

Each color, each scent of a blooming lilac or chirp of a robin, is God’s way of reviving our senses—and our spirits.

Do we notice? Do we give thanks? Or do we sometimes, like the disciples in the garden, sleep through the most sacred moments?

God’s faithfulness is not something that peaks once a year. It’s daily. Constant. Even when we take it for granted, He does not stop creating, giving, and loving. And when we finally do notice—whether through a moment of Scripture, a trembling voice in a storytelling circle, or a single daffodil—we’re changed. Lifted. Restored.

And when we’re restored, we can lift others too.

Let this season—this Easter, this spring—be our reminder to pause. To look. To give thanks. And This is the faithfulness of God. From the agony of Gethsemane to the joy of resurrection, He does not faint or grow weary.

Hearing God’s Voice
As you move through this season of resurrection and renewal, pause each day to notice something God has given—just for you. A breeze. A bird’s song. A word of encouragement. Don’t let it pass by unnoticed.

May gratitude be the bridge between God’s gifts and your ability to bless others.

A Prayer to Close
Faithful Father, thank You for never tiring of loving us. Thank You for the cross and the empty tomb, for spring mornings and blooming branches. Awaken our hearts to Your goodness. Restore us so we can restore others. Help us to see, to pause, to give thanks—and to share Your light. Amen.