Winter

Spiritual growth, like any other type of growth, is seasonal.

It’s winter here. In my mind, there are two sections to the cold seasons here: the pre-Christmas winter (which I know is like only five days, but bear with me), in which the season is marked by the build-up to Christmas, by music and celebration, by time with family and food and busy, hectic schedules. Life is a blur, joy abounds, and there is a buzz of excitement among people.

Then there is January and February.

There’s not much that we really know these months for. Sure there are a couple of days on the calendar commemorating courageous visionaries (Dr. King day, for instance) or the idea of infatuation (Valentine’s day). But in general, January and February are just bleak and cold and, well, not as much fun.

So, my attention has turned to getting ready for spring. I’m expanding my garden space while the dirt is easy to work with. I’m buying seeds and starters and making a plan. Everything is ready for when the weather starts to warm, and I can plant. I have found some hope, some happiness in this cold part of the year simply by looking forward to a warmer part of the year.

But is that what is best for my soul?

Now, bear with me here. There is certainly nothing wrong with preparing for the future. The proverbs are jam-packed with commendations for those who plan and prepare for the future. But if I put all my hope, if I front load my joy into a warmer day, then two things happen. First, the season never meets my expectations, because it carries both today’s weight, and the weight of all the days that I had put in front of it. Even if it were to meet those expectations, my joy would fade when the weather went from warm to oppressively hot. Second, I miss today’s grace by spending all my time looking for future grace. So, there has to be another solution, right?

I think I tend to do the same thing spiritually. I am moving through a season of melancholy, so this is particularly true in my world right now, I suspect. Ps 42 is one of my go-to Psalms in seasons of difficulty, and I particularly love verse 11: “hope in God, for I will again praise Him.” The Psalmist reminds himself that, though He is downcast now, he will not be downcast forever. In fact, one day, He will again praise Him. In many ways, this is looking forward to warmer days, spiritually speaking. So, it isn’t essentially wrong. In fact, knowing that there will be a day when I won’t feel like I feel now is often a great source of encouragement for me.

But it has to go deeper, I think.

How can I know that? How can I trust this reality? Because right now, at this moment, God’s grace sustains me. Even when I don’t feel like it, He has me. Even when I don’t want to open my eyes or look up or pray or sing. Even when the last thing I feel like doing is anything that is close to spiritual, He holds me. Even when I can’t see how the fog will lift, He carries me. He isn’t just a lighthouse; He is the lifeboat. He doesn’t just show me out of the fog, He carries me. How do I know that there will be a day when I won’t feel downcast? Because God never fails. And He carries me. The fog will lift. The sky will brighten. There will be future grace.

And I know that because of the reality of present grace.

The reality is that I can be certain that spring is coming. But in the meantime, the earth rotates and moves around the sun, gradually and day by day the days get longer. The seeds contain everything they need to bust wide open at the moment our God says “grow.” The rain will fall right on schedule. The spring will come. And I know it will come precisely because what is happening now is ushering in spring. Because of what is happening today, I can be certain of what will be tomorrow.

I don’t know what you are going through right now (well, depending on who you are, maybe I do, but you know what I mean). It feels like at this moment at least half the people I know are wrestling through the thick fog of depression and abject sadness. I know there are physical tribulations, broken relationships, and all sorts of turmoil. You may be plugging away at a ministry where you feel completely alone, where you feel that despite your very bests efforts, nothing is happening. You may feel isolated and dejected. You may desperately want to cry out to help, and come to the stark realization that there really isn’t anyone to cry out to. You may be at a point where you have people to whom you can cry, but you are afraid to do so out of fear of exposure, or fear of rejection, or some combination of those. You may feel overwhelmed and burdened.

You may not want to pray. You may not want to praise Him.

I have found that in those moments, pat answers and coffee-cup verses haven’t been super helpful. So I won’t give you any. If you are reading this and you are working in church revitalization (or ministry of any type for that matter), all these feelings and experiences will be reality. Here is what I must tell myself in those seasons.

One day, it will change. He is making it change. God is working. He is not passive and disinterested. He is tender towards the downcast, the downtrodden and the brokenhearted. Spring is coming, because God is making it. And He will use these dark times.

Hope in God, for we will again praise Him, our Savior and our God.