Seasons

Far too often I find myself confusing those in my life who didn’t grow up in the church with the language that I use so freely. Words that are just an every day part of my vocabulary make no sense to the general public. I found this to be specifically true when speaking with someone recently regarding a “season” I was going through. They looked at me and very genuinely asked, “What is a season?” I had been using the terminology so long to describe a phase of life – a “season” – that I could hardly comprehend that it didn’t translate into everyday conversation. As I’ve sat back and listened since then, I’ve heard that term thrown around a lot in the church. I don’t think the rest of the world uses it the same way we do.  Which got me thinking about why as Christians we so often explain our lives in terms of “seasons” cause we sure seem to do it a lot.

My best guess is that it originated in Ecclesiastes:

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

Or as some of you may be more familiar with, an almost literal translation of the continuation of this very same passage as it was sung by the Byrds:

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die A time to plant, a time to reap A time to kill, a time to heal A time to laugh, a time to weep…..

….and the song continues on with lots of “turn, turn, turn” going on throughout.

This past year was most definitely a season shall we say of weeping. Weep (and freak out) seems to be what I did for the majority of the year. It wasn’t permanent. It was a season. Just as seasons change outside and move on to new purposes and phases so do seasons of our life. Praise. The. Lord.

Maybe last year was a time to weep, but I’m thinking that this year is a time to be born, plant, heal, and laugh. Even as 2013 rolled over into 2014, I sensed a new season of life beginning in me.

Seasons. For every winter, a spring is bound to follow. For every seed that dies in the earth, new life is bound to spring up. Where weeping once was, joy is bound to follow.

Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.  So grateful for new seasons and new mercies every morning.

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© 2020 by Katie Murray