Seasons in life are natural markings in our journey of where we are in our spiritual transformation. They are nature’s calendar which reminds us that nothing lasts forever. For as sure as the sun and moon both day and night cross the sky, the cycle we instinctively know, bids us to heed the changes coming. The question we must ask ourselves is; are we spiritually strong enough to weather the seasons of life?
Fortunately, we have a God of order at the helm of time. The clouds disperse and the sun fades at his command. When spring’s spurt has been slowed through summer’s play, we are beckoned to the plow and hearth. Time for contemplation and thanks before winter’s flurries still us: peace our blanket of comfort. Praise the Lord the seasons are set and his children are secure: none are too short or too long.
The faithful follower knows she will experience every spiritual season. Winter’s bitterness of test and trial, surrender and sacrifice are blanketed with hope. Spring brings rebirth and fertility. Our tender shoots break through winter’s barrier and drink its thaw until our arms stretch in praise. In thankfulness we accept the kisses of summer until our fruit is sweet on the vine. Fall beckons us to let go our concerns and enjoy the harvest of God’s blessings before gray days come again.
“The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them,” (Isaiah 40:7NIV)
By this verse children of God are cautioned to hold loosely to things of this life—like trees to their amber leaves--for nothing lasts but the Word of God, (“Isaiah 40:8).
Do we? Chambers states: "Many people have turned back because they are afraid to look at things from God's perspective." In other words, they desire perpetual spring and summer.
How spoiled are we in California. Here summer seems to last forever. Bright skies and puffy clouds are our canopy. We boast of our coastal paradise, blind to our vulnerability as the seasons come and go scarcely noticed. A harsh season bends our stem or wilts our leaves and we faint. Shamefully we cling to our petals and covet the beds of our neighbors. Are roots run shallow here for we drink dew. Yet, our soil is very rich. Travel in any direction and find a different people: those who know the patterns of the sun and see more than characters in the clouds. Forgive me…but Lord help us!
We are instructed to be aware of the signs of the seasons. Why? So we are not caught off guard by sudden storms: showers of rain, scorching heat, whipping winds, frost or snow. Knowing the season’s characteristics help us prepare for what lies ahead. Each season has its own set of chores and joys.
Still, no matter how in tune we are with the seasons of faith, one can never truly grow spiritually unless they endure the shears of God. Like well rooted perennials in our comfortable beds, we may produce a few buds each spring. However, without proper pruning we will never grow as intended. We were created with seasons in mind and shears in the plan.
Yet God does not maliciously cut at our lives. With a carefully focused eye and steady hand he shapes us: with each snip strengthening our core and producing new growth. We are conditioned by and through the seasons so in time we are able to handle harsher ones. Longer droughts, heartier winds and colder temperatures lead to a climax of praise when spring’s first bud appears: a victory to celebrate for life has endured.
The season cycle--like a divine color wheel—forever turns. We are wise to journey through them with our eyes on the sky and our toes on the train of God’s robe. In this way, no matter what conditions we face, Jesus is our support stake, sun screen, wind barrier and mulch.
Our days of summer play are being swept away with the winds of fall, marking a season of change and transformation. Some of us will lose leaves, while those of others will change color. Many will be harvested and some will be transplanted. Whatever stage we are in, fall changes us. The forest is our cue to the hand of God reaching for his shears and turning up the purification fire. Amber leaves will turn to brown as the blade cuts: winter is held back for no one.
I pray we respond to God’s shears with submission and hope. Oh, that we would willingly drop the things that weigh heavy on our limbs and hinder our spiritual growth. Then, may we sit still through winter’s cocoon of healing—heeding the word of the Lord-- until spring comes and we bloom again.
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