And in these darker days late in the year, When night falls sooner and we feel the chill Of autumn in each breeze, we start with fear But find amidst the ghosts and ghouls goodwill As families and friends come out to play And share some goodies too. Then as the air Grows dry and cold, we mourn the loss of day Yet turn to thanks, in fellowship and pray’r And much good food. And then we put up lights To fill the longest nights with hope and cheer. The season’s stories, smells, tastes, sounds, and sights Bring warmth unparalleled to end the year. It’s true, the light is lesser now, but hark! The angel’s song still sounds here in the dark!
In fear, we burn down bridges, build up walls. We work against the good that you intend. Yet you account for failures, fights, and falls And bring good anyway, and you can mend Our rent relationships and broken hearts, Redeeming what was ruined by these hands. We shatter graces, scatter all the parts; You hold all things together in your plans. Lord, you give purpose even to our pain. The love we tear asunder, you renew. You see the growth to come from all the rain, And you sustain us till we see it too, Till chosen exile ends in holy rest And dispossession’s fin’lly dispossessed.
Seasons are strange things. In some ways, there’s a sense of safety in an understanding of seasons. For example, it’s currently summer, which means it’s hot and humid here in New Orleans. The weather feels almost oppressive at times, zapping our energy levels and frustrating us with its unrelenting heat. But summer is a season, and seasons change. Some day, the air will feel cooler and dryer. The weight of the still, stuffy air will be lifted by cool breezes, and we’ll feel lighter instead of heavier as we step outside. Knowing this, I can endure the discomfort of today because I know a change will come. I need not get lost in the difficulty of today; I can rest in the knowledge that this process will continue on as it has always done. This is simply the season for heat and humidity, and that’s okay.
Our understanding of seasons doesn’t diminish the difficulty of the present day, though. We who are especially prone to discomfort during summer suffer, in a way, while in that season, longing for the relief of fall. Likewise, we who are especially prone to discomfort during winter suffer in the cold as we wait for the relief of spring. The seasons don’t look the same, and we don’t feel the same way through them all. As they change, so do we.
Seasons of life are similar. We experiences seasons of joy and peace, of fun and freedom, filled with recreation and rest and friends and family. We also experiences seasons of hardship and loss, of discomfort and distress, of loneliness and isolation. We experience seasons of abundance as well as seasons of lack, seasons of much and seasons of little. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens,” as the author of Ecclesiastes reminds us (Ecclesiastes 3:1). And we change with those seasons, sometimes growing, sometimes struggling to grow. And just like there are cooler days in the summer and warmer days in the winter, our seasons are not monolithic. There are genuine joys in the midst of hard seasons, and there are genuine sorrows in the midst of easy seasons. Life is complex, as are we. Knowing this brings some comfort, but it does not necessarily lessen the weight of our experiences.
Through every season, though, God is constant, steadfast, faithful. He remains sovereign over every season, Lord over every day we live. Jesus continues to intercede on behalf of his own. The Spirit remains with us to comfort, to convict, and to encourage growth in godliness. Though our experiences change, and though we change over time, our God does not. I think this is part of why Paul can say in Philippians 4, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). Though seasons change, one thing remains constant through it all. By centering our lives on Jesus, we find strength to weather any season.
That’s easier said than done, of course. In difficult seasons, it can be hard to abide in him. Our circumstances, our community, and at times, even our own thoughts, feelings, and bodies can feel like obstacles to walking with Jesus. We can know cognitively that he is with us and that he will sustain us without feeling it to be true, and we can try to seek him while feeling like our limbs are too heavy to do the work. In such times, an understanding of seasons can feel almost worthless. But if the Bible is true and if God is faithful, then there is always hope. Maybe in our most difficult seasons, our weakness doesn’t have to define our experience. Maybe it’s not greater effort but rest that will lead us to freedom. Maybe the answer isn’t in us but in him.
As seasons change, and as we change with them, it’s easy to lose sight of what is constant and unchanging. It’s easy to forget that the one who has overcome this world has indeed overcome this world, that even death itself has been experienced and conquered. If this is true, then nothing we face is outside of his ability to turn for good. Nothing we face, and nothing we become, is beyond his power to redeem. So we can exist in this season, and in every season, with a hope, a foundation, and a strength found not in the season itself but in the one who walks with us through every season. Further, we can rest in the fact that for those who love God, no season is wasted. All things work together for good (Romans 8:28), and nothing can separate us from God’s love (Romans 8:31-39).
Seasons change, and so do we. Sometimes we long for the change, and other times we dread it. In every season, though, I believe we can “taste and see that the LORD is good,” and we can find refuge in him (Psalm 34:8). We can hold fast to the promise of future glory, glory that will more than make up for any suffering faced in this life (Romans 8:18). And we find hope in him. If he has shown himself to be good and faithful now, amidst the change and discomfort of these earthly seasons, how much more does he want to give us in eternity?
Thank you to Maci for her feedback on this post! She makes everything better, and I am so grateful for her thoughtful eye.
Unsafe, unsettled, captive to my mind, Caught by impending ambiguity, Lost in a steady rain of thoughts unkind, Just out of reach of true reality. I know the signs and triggers, subtle clues That signal shifted thinking, but I feel A restlessness and see in starker hues That taint the truth and dull my sense of real. This state distorts perspective, leaving me The least equipped to navigate the haze. My greatest need is objectivity, But I stay subject to uncertain days. But truth is truth and real is real despite My inability to see the light.
Another quiet Sunday afternoon. Still filled with fears and questions, but I know Your stories take their time, so maybe soon The way will be revealed, and I will go. Till then, I wait and think about that morn That guaranteed our hope, the end of night At his rekindled light, when all the scorn Seemed scant as those two Marys caught the sight Of resurrection, life born out of death. Their hope and joy once buried was renewed. Their Jesus breathed with deep undying breath. Forevermore, the darkness is subdued. At last, the weight of ages finds release. After the darkest day, unending peace.
Another day, another coffee shop, Longing for resurrection, wondering If they knew they were waiting, that the stop Was long expected, that the thundering Was temporary. Could they fathom hope Persisting past the ending of the dream? Was life from death a long-forgotten trope? Was this beyond God’s power to redeem? Or worse, was this his will? Could they not see, Deceived by words so many had refused, Tricked by the man—for man he seemed to be? Others were healed, but he died bloodied, bruised. The silent tomb was sealed. What would they do? Was anything they once believed still true?
Another Friday, overcast and grey. I sit alone to study but reflect On that dark Friday years ago, the day The light went out, when we failed to detect The purpose through the pain that grew so great All comforts were eclipsed, and in the ache Of ignorance and fear, the hour grew late Then passed for hope of rescue. Then the break Of heart when his heart stopped and he grew still And death remained what it had always been. Perhaps one day the Lord would still fulfill His word, but not this day. This day, our sin And shame were at their height, and we below The storm clouds wondered, “Where else shall we go?”
This pain is not forever. It will pass away in time, as seasons change. It will be healed, touched by the one who tasted death on our behalf. Or it will be taken away one day in glory, when eternity outshines time.
We cannot now say which it will be, but we can be certain of its end, and its redemption.
The Lord who is my shepherd knows my path. When I was lost in darkness, he was there With purposes of love and not of wrath, Compassionate and kind and full of care. He knew how long the wandering would last And all that would be lost along the way. He sets all seasons—future, present, past— Sustaining through the night, bringing the day. Our Lord is always working, always good, Always aware of us, our faults, our haste. Before him, we are always understood, And with him, there is never any waste. We make our messes. He is not surprised. His purposes will still be realized.
as i learn to walk 