In the back of many of our closets, there is a sweater that has seen better days. Perhaps it was a gift from a loved one, a favorite layer worn during a difficult season, or simply a garment that has grown thin at the elbows from years of faithful service. Individually, these pieces of wool and acrylic are artifacts of our personal histories—bits of "used up" material that the world might otherwise discard.
This Easter, however, we are looking at these old threads through the lens of the Empty Tomb.
For the past several weeks, our community has been engaged in a unique "harvest." We asked you to bring in those old sweaters, not to be thrown away, but to be carefully deconstructed. As we have unraveled these garments, we have been doing more than just reclaiming yarn; we have been considering the stories, the prayers, and the varied "places in life" that each contributor represents.
The Resurrection is not just a historical event we remember; it is a promise of transformation that we inhabit. It is the divine "Yes" to the idea that nothing is ever truly lost to God. By harvesting the yarn from our various lives—some of us coming from seasons of joy, others from seasons of grief or exhaustion—we are creating a visual testimony of what it means to be the Body of Christ.
As these harvested strands are woven, coiled, and layered into the four large-scale art pieces that will soon hang in our sanctuary, a beautiful truth begins to emerge. A single strand of yarn, pulled from a lone sweater, is fragile. But when it is combined with the textures and colors of a hundred other lives, it becomes part of a sturdy, vibrant tapestry.
This project mirrors our life together in Christ: We are a people of Grace abounding. Just as Christ was raised to a new and glorified body, we are taking the materials of our old selves and allowing them to be refashioned into a New Creation. When you look at the panels on our walls this Easter, I hope you don't just see art. I hope you see yourself. I hope you see the sleeve of the sweater you donated now acting as a ray of light or the collar of a friend’s cardigan forming the foundation of a new horizon.
We have brought something of ourselves to contribute to the whole promise of Resurrection. We have taken the discarded and found it to be the very material God uses to make all things new. In every knot, every braid, and every splash of color, let us recognize that we are being woven together into a story much larger than our own—a story that begins at an empty grave and stretches out into an eternal, colorful, and recycled hope.
Yours in the binding,
John Johns