Growth

Well, it finally happened. Slowly but steadily, the world is tuning green again. And I mean literally, not the eco-friendly term (thought that does seem to be on the rise). Everywhere I look, things are growing again.

There's this great Nichole Nordeman song that talks about how God is in "Every Season" of life, and she ends with Spring:

And everything that's new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season's change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, Autumn, Winter...Spring.

(Listen to it, please. It's a fabulous song.)

I know I've talked a lot about my restlessness lately. I'm starting to get the feeling that it's because things are changing for me, too.

Sometimes I look at the last few years of my life, and I don't feel like I've changed much or done much with my life. And it's easy to want start with externals--like a new haircut, or a nose ring, or a tattoo. Something visible and tangible that says, "Look, I'm different." A new outfit. A new job. A new relationship.

But once in a while, God lets me get a glimpse of what He's doing in my life. I had a minor revelation last week, and it made me happy. It gave me peace. It gave me freedom. Which is what Truth does, right?

There are so many things I'm afraid of in life, it's ridiculous. I'm not talking spiders, here. I'm talking about all the little worries that flood my head whenever I think of doing something, especially something new. I fear failing, but I also fear changing for the sake of change--just to keep from being bored.

So as I look at the horizon of my life, I worry that I'm running from my old life just to avoid it. But should I let that hold me back?

I sometimes wonder if growth is painful for plants. Does it hurt trees to stretch their branches further each year, to reach up to the sky?

Right now, I feel a little like a heroine in a novel or a movie, someone who is on the brink of change and can't even see it yet. I just feel like I've been waiting for something to happen...stuck...but that just around the corner, something is coming. Does that sound weird? I'm okay with it if it does. I don't expect everyone to get it, I'm just kinda rambling.

I'm just at a point where I know things can't stay the way they are. Something has to give. Square peg, round hole and all that. I mean, I've made some friends here, and I'm grateful for that (not to mention, my family!). And for a brief window of time, I felt like I had a place here. But, I don't know...somehow I'm just too much of a gypsy. I feel like Vianne from Chocolat, always listening to the North Wind and moving on. Only, I'm trying to hear God, listening for where He is calling me to go.

Would you pray for me, as I listen? I'm considering Ireland. I will be attending a prayer/missions conference in the Dublin area later--in the summer. I want to go. Really. I'm excited about this trip. But I only want to Go--back, that is--if it's where He wants me.

He is growing each of us, just like the trees and the flowers. And thank goodness--I couldn't take much more of winter.

Come, Springtime

Come, gentle showers,
fall soft on me.

Little drops of grace
keeping me from
cracking like dry earth.

Come heavy storms,
make me clean.

I am deluged
Soaked entirely through
and shivering.

Come rushing water,
sweep me away.

A flood of change
slows to a trickle
and all is still.

Come, fierce winds,
strip away my gloom.

Let what was frozen
thaw and flow:
Life is on the move.

Come, golden light,
saturate my soul.

Rays of warmth
call forth growth;
the world is green again.

Come, Springtime,
help me bloom.

Desiring Spring

Something happens to me around this time of year.

Right now the world is gray and faded; dirty snow piles line the streets and parking lots. Trees are bare. The sky is washed out. The air is cold. I hate it, quite frankly. I long for Spring--according to the calendar, it's only a few days away. In reality, Winter still reigns.

I've been stressed out lately--just a lot of things piling up on me. Then I look outside, and everything looks as bleak as I feel. Somehow it's easier to let things get to me when there is no beauty in the world.

But early this morning, I heard birds singing. Somehow it struck me. Such a simple thing, but it signified that Winter really is drawing to a close. And those birds know it. They know it's time for them to be back here, that soon the weather will grow warmer and things will grow again.

It reminded me of so many things. There is a song by Switchfoot called "412" which says,

You watch the sun rise
You saw the darkness had no choice before the dawn
With your own eyes
And then you broke out laughing from a yawn

You said,
"I'm so sorry I've been so down.
I started doubting things could ever turn around.
And I began to believe that all we are is material.
It's nonsensical."

And I felt that way. It was like I forgot that Winter can't last forever--it has no choice but to give way to Spring. This also reminded me of John Eldredge (as so many things do) and how he talks about our Soul's longing for Spring. He says,

But after the new year, things begin to drag on. Through February and then March, the earth remains lifeless. The whole world lies shadowed in brown and gray tones, like an old photograph. Winter’s novelty is long past, and by April we are longing for some sign of life—some color, some hope. It’s too long.

And then, just this afternoon, I rounded the corner into our neighborhood, and suddenly, the world was green again. What had been rock and twig and dead mulch was a rich oriental carpet of green. I was shocked, stunned. How did it happen? As if in disbelief, I got out of my car and began to walk through the woods, touching every leaf. The birds are back as well, waking us in the morning with their glad songs. It happened suddenly. In the twinkling of an eye.

My surprise is telling. It seems natural to long for spring; it is another thing to be completely stunned by its return. I am truly and genuinely surprised, as if my reaction were, Really? What are you doing here? And then I realized, I thought I’d never see you again. I think in some deep place inside, I had accepted the fact that winter is what is really true . . . And so I am shocked by the return of spring. And I wonder, Can the same thing happen for my soul? (The Journey of Desire , 108–9)

There is this deep yearning in me for Life and greenness and newness and regeneration, and I long to see it not only in myself, but in the world around me. There are people who dislike that Holidays like Christmas and Easter are arbitrarily celebrated in conjunction with ancient pagan rituals rather than commemorating the actual date of the events. But this year, I realized something. God, in His sovereignty, allowed those dates to be used. The timing is quite perfect, actually. At least here, for us in this hemisphere.

Christmas brings light into the darkest time of the year. It's the bleakest, coldest, blackest time of the year--and what do we do? We light candles and hang up tiny twinkling lights everywhere. We use imagery of bright stars and shining angels. Because Christ came into the world, to be a light in the darkness.

And of course, Easter (more commonly known as Resurrection in my family, and now my church as well!). It is perfect as well. The juxtaposition of Death and Life--Winter and Spring--is a visual reminder of Rebirth and Resurrection.

There is something glorious in the Return of Spring, and yet it always surprises me how much I long for it. We were not made for death. We were made for Life--and Life abundant! And it seems like every year I need to be reminded of this. Some years more than others.

There's a Relient K song that I love, called "In Like a Lion (Always Winter)" which captures my feelings so well about wanting spring to come:

When February rolls around, I’ll roll my eyes
Turn a cold shoulder to these even colder skies
And by the fire, my heart it heaves a sigh
For the green grass waiting on the other side

It’d be so nice to look out the window
And see the leaves on the trees begin to show
The birds would congregate and sing
A song of birth, a song of newer things

And everything it changed overnight
This dying world, you brought it back to life
And deep inside I felt things
Shifting, everything was melting away
And you gave us the most beautiful of days

Cause when it’s always Winter, but never Christmas
Sometimes it feels like you’re not with us
But deep inside our hearts we know
That you are here and we will not lose hope.

The other night I was flipping through an old journal, looking for something particular. I ended up reading many pages on which I had poured out my troubled heart. It was written during what I believe to be one of my darkest years to date. I cried out to God about so many things, but one stood out to me. I had been incredibly lonely. In college, I'd had a great group of friends; but in Pittsburgh, the only people I knew were my family. Once I wrote that I wished I just had a group of friends to go out with, get away for a bit.

Immediately I thought of recent excursion to Seib's, a local Irish pub that has become something of a hangout for me and a few friends. The laughter and the warmth, the friendship--it had crept into my life after all. In unexpected ways, God answered my prayers. He brought new Life.

I believe that there is a longing in all of us for New Life. Perhaps it is closer to the surface at this time of year, when we are tired of cleaning off our cars and shoveling sidewalks and huddling under blankets. Maybe it's easier to recognize the longing of our soul when it's reflected in the world around us.

And into this Longing, God gives the best of gifts: the promise of new, eternal, abundant life. He even gives us a preview by raising Christ from the dead. Can anything be more amazing? Yet, isn't this the very thing that the world around us is proclaiming, shouting for all to see? There is Life to be found! The sun will shine again!

I'll leave you with one last quote, from a Steven Curtis Chapman song. He wrote it about Narnia and Aslan--which again echoes the Winter/Spring, Life/Death themes that we ourselves are facing:

And I'll watch as the cold winter melts into spring
And I'll be remembering You
Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing
and I'll be remembering You, I'll be remembering You

And I'll watch as the sun fills a sky that was dark
And I'll be remembering You
And I'll think of the way that You fill up my heart
And I'll be remembering You.

(That song always make me get teary. *sigh*) To, Spring, and to the Return of Life! Amen.