Easter Rise

EASTER SUN., APR. 11, 1982, 5:14 AM
FARM, BREAKFAST TABLE

You look outside and you see a becoming. Winter is past, but spring is slow in becoming dominant. The sky is clear, in portent of a beautiful day, but there is a bank of clouds at the eastern horizon. There is much potential, o son, but not the fullness of being that Easter promises.

On the first Easter morn I arose as more than the Jesus who walked a small but important part of the earth. I had messages to bring… and it was important that the disciples know that. I was not held by death and that their allegiance to Me was still in force. Still, Easter morn was more a time of becoming than of glorious being. It WAS, as this morning IS, with a definite Hallelujah! Quality, but it also was still developing. And that is good, say I.

The essence of life of any type is the everlasting mixture of being and becoming. This Farm has being… a rugged beauty not founded in neatness. Yet there are actions you can take today that can increase the beauty by diminishing the ugliness. You look at the eastern sky, and the sunrise is still becoming. It shall be, and then its time of beauty will be over.

You serve Me in some direct and some indirect ways. As a servant you ARE, and still it is obvious to you as it is to Me that your service is still becoming. Even at the end of an earth life there is being… what was and now is… but also becoming, as the manifestation and form of life changes.

On Easter morn I rose, but on this Easter morn, as in the past and henceforth as well, I rise… and proclaim the continuity of life.

You see robins outside. Are they the same robins as last year, continuing their individual lives? Or are they new robins, seeing their first Easter, but continuing the life of robins? Yes, it is. Both/and.

As you look outside you see much that is not new… much that was there yesterday… even years before. And still there is newness, for life has an inherent rising quality to it.

Your dog outside shows an expectation that is not new, and yet it is this morning. The other animals gather, not with the urgency of winter season, but with a sense of continuity. Yet, again, there is a newness, a uniqueness to their being this morning.

The sun has risen… not with the color and splendor of a rise without the cloud bank. This gives another beginning to a day that already had begun. The sun is bright in your eyes, and that is joy-producing and also irritating. Is newness good? Is that which is old and familiar better? Is judging good? Is not judging better? Is it good that I am here, sharing this time with you? Are mornings without this meditation worse mornings?

You can answer a question, and it has been answered. But it does lead on to another question. If you devoted more time to My Scriptures would you have more questions answered… or more questions raised? Do these teachings give you more assurance than they do apprehension?