Last couple of days I have thought a bit on Seasons. It was on the first day of Fall that my ponder kicked in. Why do we love some seasons and dislike others? I admit. I feel summer should not be over. I have not gotten my fill of blooms, butterflies, colorful birds, warmth on my skin, long summer nights.... I quite literally felt like crying at the thought of winter sneaking close. Why? Why. For me it's simple. I like the seasons I can feel God's love the warmest. And so it is with seasons of my life too.
Obvious love comforts so quick. I think God's design of earth rhythm is no mishap. He knows we will always cling to the warm months. The perfect air seasons. The vacation weeks of year. Some of us even moving to warm states to assure year round hope. We are created to ache for rest. Spring and summer. They feel like rest from cold realities don't they?
But what if in our Hawaii mindset we miss out? What if there is a message in the crisp air? A gift in the freeze. Now don't scoff. I don't swallow this path easy either. But I am just thinking. Dormant seasons. Chilly nights. Frosted windows. Warm breath mid-air. They have beauty. Simply because of this. Cold seasons. hard seasons. They nurture a promise. Growth can stump when it isn't challenged. When we worship warmth we halt grace. See...God's grace shows beauty's face in the feat of overcoming. In the power of a smile on chapped lips and chattering teeth. To smile soft when the warmth has left tells such a story.
My Dad once told me a story after his visit to the Holocaust museum in D.C. I can't shake this image I haven't even seen. See he told me of a portrait. Women. With parts missing. Limbs and intimates removed in hate. Then lined up for a photo op. Heart grieves such reality. My dad said he stopped and the breath caught in his throat. Her. This woman in the midst... My dad said he will never forget... Her smile. He said she glowed. Her countenance shown as the sun in the midst of malicious hate and all it evidence. Missing pieces of feminine figure, she smiles still. Her peace transcending THIS season. Cold? Yeah. I would say so. A horrid winter in history. But she knew Him. To smile like that. She moved my dad by her grace. She moved me... And I haven't even seen her real. What testimony her smile on cracked lips has. She is gone. Long accepted into history and heaven it seems... But her smile? It stayed. And it's affect? Epic.
Seasons. We won't ever be able to stop them. But our peace doesn't come from coasting thru with a space heater in our pocket. It comes in knowing He is trustworthy. A bridge that has held, season after season. What has He carried you thru? What grace can you trace back to His attention?
He is warmth that knows no season. When we open our hands to walk from blooms to crisp leaves... From butterflies to snowflakes... We fill warm full. Open hands allow Him to show us scenery so beauty, in seasons where beauty should be dormant. Testimonies have power in winter. Hope appears as the sun, when we smile trust.
I am being challenged with a truth I don't feel cozy with. But a true I feel ready to trust Him in. I need winter. Winter strengthens our grip on truths learned in flip flops. If what has warmed my heart when it is 84 and perfect out, evades me in the cold, have I really learned it? I want to be settled in the One I love. But that requires challenges and training. Practice. And more practice. Seasons are a gift. Fall and winter are His hand teaching us how to smile genuine when it makes no earthly sense. It trains us to be apart of the honor of His paradoxical Kingdom. What shouldn't be, is. And that jolts people into never forgetting a smile. Wondering how she could smile, amidst all that. Maybe she was created for that moment... And every visitor who passes by with tissue in hand, catches breath. She. Is she? She is! And they'll never forget... And they will search. And God will go and reveal. And more will be saved. Her smile. For such a time as this.
God is faithful. He is a bridge that has a history of holding...it boggles mind. I am the Israelite who forgets. The dust in the desert He constantly has to call out to. "Remember Elizabeth, remember." And just like in Joshua 4, I pick stones up so i will. He is good. Always. He is with me close. Always. He is God in warm and God in cold. Always. He is Lord of the Seasons and all their rhythm. And I don't have to be afraid.
So today. If you feel winter creeping in all threat, don't be afraid. The cold knows His name. It too submits to Him. Put the kettle on. Set out the hot cocoa. When you hear a knock at the door, open. He wants to warm you thru. He is crackling fire, and candle flicker.
Winter can be 84 with sun.
A beach and a Parka. There's a story there.....
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