Jenny’s letter 4th May
Dear Friends,
During the weeks following Easter Sunday, the Church often turns its attention to the book of Acts. We read stories of the early Church: bold witnesses; unexpected conversions; miraculous healings; and the Spirit stirring hearts and communities. These are powerful stories of resurrection power at work in the world. But sometimes, amid this focus, we miss the quieter, poetic voices—like that of the prophet Zephaniah—who offer their own vision of resurrection hope.
Zephaniah is not often read aloud in church, and when it is, it’s usually during Advent. But the final verses of his prophecy—Zephaniah 3:14–20—are a hymn of joy that echoes with Easter resonance.
“Sing aloud, O daughter Zion… The Lord has taken away the judgments against you… The Lord your God is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.” (Zephaniah 3:14–17)
This is a vision of salvation not just as a judicial act or a moral reset, but as a love song—God rejoicing over us with gladness, exulting with singing. Not only are we invited to sing praises to God; God, too, is a singer. In the Hebrew, the language suggests not a gentle hum but a full-throated shout of joy, a triumphant celebration.
Over my post Easter holiday, I spent some time walking and sitting in woodland, listening to birdsong. That unpredictable and spontaneous music, filled the air throughout the morning and I was reminded of Zephaniah’s image: “He will exult over you with loud singing.” And I wondered—what if this is what God sounds like? What if God’s joy is expressed in the chirping of wrens, the call of the blackbird, the soft coo of the wood pigeon? What if God’s song over us is not distant and formal, but as near and alive as the world awakening each morning?
In that moment, it didn’t feel like after Easter. It felt like Easter still. And it is.
The Church calendar tells us that the season of Easter lasts fifty days—until Pentecost. But even beyond that, resurrection is never something we simply leave behind. We are called to live as people of the resurrection, grounded in a “living hope” (1 Peter 1:3). Easter isn’t only a moment; it’s a mindset, a way of seeing the world infused with the life of Christ.
Zephaniah’s prophecy speaks to that vision. He writes to a people who have known pain, judgment and fear. And yet the final word is not despair, but restoration. God promises to gather the outcast, to bring them home, to replace shame with praise, to give them a name and a future.
This is Easter work—the work of resurrection, of new beginnings. And God does it not out of obligation, but from overflowing joy. Too often, we imagine God as stern, watchful, hard to please, but Zephaniah offers a different picture: God not only forgives and restores, but delights in us. God sings.
This may be one of the most radical ideas in Scripture: that the God of the universe not only tolerates us, not only saves us, but rejoices in us. Not for anything we’ve achieved, but simply because we are His.
As we continue to walk in the light of the resurrection, may we carry this image with us: a singing God, a joyful God, a God who finds delight in His people. May we be attentive to the ways creation joins that chorus—in birdsong, in beauty, in the ordinary tasks of every day. And may we respond with our own songs of praise—not just in words, but in lives marked by hope, love, and renewed purpose.
Easter isn’t over. Easter is the rhythm of grace that carries us through every season. We live in the light of the risen Christ. We live in the sound of God’s joy.
May you hear God’s voice this week, God Bless you,
