More of the same…

Seasons aren’t always the transitions we hope they are.

One into the another, we expect. After winter we expect the world to seep warm into luscious green. In fall, we yearn for the burn of amber and gold on oak and maple and maidenhair. If the climate resists our need for endings, we create new beginnings on our own: pumpkins on porches and spring tulips in tall vases near windows. We swap wreaths and hang lights in our perpetual need to move things forward.

We resist change as humans, except when it applies to seasons.

Less heat, more sweater weather. The last snow in exchange for the first lilac and soft, greening grass. We have even adopted the language of seasonal change in our Christianese. Especially in this season of life, we say and nod sagely.

Keep moving forward. Nothing lasts forever.

For those outside of a normative annual calendar and for whom September looks very much like April, seasonal change can often signal more of the same. For those waiting for the endless train of ‘this season’ to pull into the station so they can disembark and start a better journey, the promised brevity of seasonal change feels like a swift punch of denial.

Not for you. Here is another four months of the same.

We speak of seasonal change as evidence of God’s faithfulness (and it is) and yet when our seasons fail to change… when the hard things in life continue, and there are chronic aspects to our existence we did not bargain for, we find ourselves cramped and confused. Where is our transition? Our ending? Our fresh, new beginning?

When the hard things stay and the promise of new beginnings is available to everyone but you, will you remember this?

The power of grace (as KJ Ramsey writes) is not simply in the power to rescue, but in the ability to endure. Grace meets us in the deep ruts of unchanging circumstances and invites us to acknowledge the pain of it. To turn toward the sorrow, to lament the brokenness, and to believe God is present in it all. We long for a shift in circumstance, yes, but in our longing outward we often fail to believe God is already here.

He is not waiting on some far-off horizon. He is not absent, though he may be silent.
He is here and it is for this Christ came: to be near. To cause the presence of God dwell among his people. To be our God and we his people. To break the chains that held us distant from the God who chose us.

When your ‘season’ has not changed, God remains faithful, Beloved. He is right beside you, and he will not let you go.