A Weird Season
We talk a lot about seasons. If you live in the UK, it’s one of our favourite topics of conversation: “Isn’t the weather unusual for this time of year?”, “I wonder if we’ll get our April showers in June again?”, and the classic “It’s raining, it must be the school holidays!”.
The seasons help us to mark the passing of time, autumn follows summer, summer follows spring and spring always arrives bright and brave after a cold dark winter. In their very nature they come and go, bringing changes to the world around them.
We often recognise seasons in our own lives; some short-lived moments of challenge or great joy, others longer chapters in our life-stories which we travel with the people around us. The challenges met, decisions made and relationships forged during these times impact our future experiences. They grow our knowledge of ourselves, our world and our capacity for more going forward. In the same way as autumn prepares the way for winter, our past experiences help build our character and resolve as we advance into the unknown. And as surely as winter will always give way to spring, these seasons – however long and dark they might seem – will always change and bring with them life and growth.
Right now, our entire nation finds itself in the middle of a strange ol’ season. A virus, a lockdown, working and schooling from home, even a new system for queuing in the supermarket (and we thought we knew how to queue!). Reactions to all of this sudden and extreme change have ranged from grief and panic, to excitement and even hope for a future very different than we might have imagined a few months ago.
Many people (much more qualified than I) have written eloquently about how we can, might or should respond to the current situation, and many more have spoken beautifully about the emotional and psychological impact that this experience can and will have on different people. In my limited understanding it boils down to understanding a couple of simple things:
This is a weird season. We weren’t expecting it, so it was probably a shock and it’s ok if you think it’s a bit unusual.
However you feel about it – it’s ok. Your own reaction is valid, deserves to be recognised and processed. And then you can start to move on from that reaction to the next.
I’m not going to try to add more to this, but if you’ll allow me, I would share a few questions I’ve been mulling over the past few weeks.
My reflections on this are intrinsically linked with the relationship I have with God. I trust in a loving Father who created humanity for the wonderful purpose of knowing him. I hope in a saviour who would give up everything for me and made it his life’s mission to guide me to know him better.
So, I find myself asking a few questions during this particularly weird season, based on what I know about seasons, what I know about God and what I know about questions:
What is this season growing in me and in my friends and family? How do I recognise it?
What is this season preparing the way for? What am I hoping for in the future?
How can I get to know God better in this season?
You may well have more questions than I do. But I’ve found these are plenty for my little brain to begin with! I have been focussing practically on the third question and will be sharing some further thoughts on this question in the coming days. However, for now, I leave you with the beauty and hope of God’s promise woven into creation itself: spring is coming.