Eggshells and Frailty

In the past seven years or so I’ve got into creating decorated blown eggs, first with a traditional Ukranian wax-resist method called Pysanka, and later with an EggBot. It takes a few hours to do a pysanka so, since starting a family, finding enough time is difficult, but Easter is often both an appropriate moment and a period with enough space. Last year I taught William (then 5) and this year I’ve taught John (now 5). Here are the results from this weekend:

John’s is on the left, then William’s, then mine. I pencil out the designs on the eggs for them, in William’s case according to his specification, and then they try and follow them with the heated wax pen (called a kistka), with varying levels of dexterity and success. Still, even a shaky hand produces quite beautiful results, I think.

One thing which appeals to me about this art is that it produces artifacts which are both beautiful and very fragile – like human beings. Paul writes, using a similar analogy: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” The treasure is the gospel, and we are the jars of clay – weak vessels who can do nothing by themselves but can, with God’s help, nevertheless powerfully shine God’s light into the world.

Recently, I was reading a sermon on death by Charles Spurgeon, a noted 19th century London preacher, sent to me by a friend. I’ve not read much or any of his work before; he is certainly a man who can turn a phrase. His text was: “The last enemy to be destroyed is death“. As I increasingly bump into reminders of my own fragility and frailty, and know that my own encounter with it is not so far away, is was good to be reminded that for those with the hope of eternal life, our attitude to death is entirely transformed. The second verse of a famous Easter hymn, which I hope to have sung at my burial, sums it up well:

Lo, Jesus meets us,
Risen from the tomb;
Lovingly he greets us,
Scatters fear and gloom;
Let the Church with gladness
Hymns of triumph sing,
For her Lord now liveth,
Death hath lost its sting.

Thine be the glory,
Risen, conquering Son;
Endless is the victory
Thou o’er death hast won!

Spurgeon comments:

And since that memorable victory, every day Christ is overcoming death, for He gives His Spirit to His saints and having that Spirit within them they meet the last enemy without alarm. Often they confront him with songs. Perhaps more frequently they face him with calm countenance and fall asleep with peace. I will not fear you, death, why should I? You look like a dragon, but your sting is gone! Your teeth are broken, oh old lion, why should I fear you? I know you are no more able to destroy me, but you are sent as a messenger to conduct me to the golden gate wherein I shall enter and see my Saviour’s unveiled face forever!