April 2026
“What Is Still Sleeping in You?”
“8 For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light
9 (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth)
10 and find out what pleases the Lord. 11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said:
“Wake up, sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”
(Ephesians 5:8-14).
A few weeks ago, we experienced a late winter snowstorm that closed schools and paused in-person church worship service. Like many others, people hurried to the grocery store, preparing for the unknown. Watching it all unfold brought back memories of the pandemic—those uncertain days when we stayed home, unsure of what might come next.
I found myself feeling a bit unsettled, even a little afraid, as those memories resurfaced.
But in the quiet of staying home, I noticed something small and unexpected. A few birds came to my feeder, searching for food. Their gentle presence caught my attention. And suddenly, I was reminded of a story from the Book of Genesis—when, during the great flood, Noah sent out a dove. The dove returned, a sign that the waters were receding, a sign of hope, a sign that God’s promise still held. In that simple moment, I felt a quiet reassurance: God is with us. God is still faithful. Even now.
The ground here in northern Wisconsin still looks a little tired. Patches of snow linger in the shadows, and the earth—once frozen solid—now softens under the quiet work of warmer days. It doesn’t look like much yet. No bright blooms. No lush green. Just mud, melting, and the promise of something more. But beneath the surface, something is happening. Seeds that have slept all winter are beginning to stir.
Jesus once said, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). There is a holy mystery in that. What looks like an ending is often the beginning of new life. What appears buried is not gone—it is waiting.
I wonder: what is still sleeping in you? Perhaps it is a dream you set aside long ago. A calling you once felt but never followed. A courage you needed but could not find at the time.
Or even a hope that felt too fragile to hold onto through the long winter of life.
The apostle Paul writes, “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you” (Ephesians 5:14). This is not a harsh command, but a gentle invitation. Wake up. Not in shame—but in grace. Not all at once—but slowly, like the thawing ground beneath our feet.
Resurrection rarely arrives all at once.
Even on that first Easter morning, it began quietly. In Gospel of John, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb while it was still dark (John 20:1). She did not yet understand what had happened. The world had not yet caught up to the miracle. And yet—life had already begun.
Maybe that is where you are, too. Not fully in bloom. Not yet certain. Still carrying questions. Still standing in the half-light between winter and spring. That’s okay. God does some of the most beautiful work in hidden places.
The prophet Isaiah speaks a promise from God: “See, I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19). Notice that—it springs forth before we even recognize it. Before we see it. Before we believe it.
So, this April, as you notice the slow awakening of the earth, take a moment to listen inward, too.
What is God gently stirring in you? What has been buried—not as a loss, but as a seed?
And what might it look like to trust that, in God’s time, it will rise?
Grace and peace to you in this season of quiet beginnings.
Pastor Jenny