A Lesson From Solomon
Seasons. My son recently spoke about seasons in Sunday School. Wisdom is gleaned from the precious Word of God. And wisdom he had found.
The season that is gone must be acknowledged as such. It has passed away. Gone. Finished. When grieving, we process the veracity of death. We struggle through a tendency to dwell in denial as we then attempt to assimilate this new fact. Someone or something extremely dear to us is gone. We are jarred, shaken to the core. But in time we wrap our mind around this new truth. We must. We must hope again.
Sentimentality plagued me as a youth; I bitterly wept at the passing of time. I refused to believe the finality of the end of joyful seasons, preferring to reject this natural occurrence. Acknowledgment did not come readily.
In time, God helped me grow in understanding. He is the author and finisher of my faith, He holds my days in His hand. So I learned to embrace the new, to run with abandonment, believing that the best was yet to come.
It did come; a long, vibrant, joy-filled season of planting and reaping. It has been wonderful. But this, too, must end.
Now I am arriving at a new juncture. It is time to embrace the death of a season, to run head-long into the new term of adventure set before me.
The best is yet to come. There were days long ago when I could not see that. But I was wrong. The best is yet to come. There have been plenty of moments recently when I have not been able to see that. But I'm beginning to remember and believe.
After all, the best is yet to come.
To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven. Ecc. 3.1Seasons come and go, bringing change, altering existence as we know it. Some change we like, some we don't. Certain seasons are full, adding blessing and joy. Others deplete our treasury.
A time to be born, a time to die... Ecc. 3.2"This is listed first, a telling concept revealing that even seasons have a birth and a death." He confidently uttered these insightful words. His subsequent rendering of such truth spoke volumes to this faint heart. Actually, they cut to the quick.
The season that is gone must be acknowledged as such. It has passed away. Gone. Finished. When grieving, we process the veracity of death. We struggle through a tendency to dwell in denial as we then attempt to assimilate this new fact. Someone or something extremely dear to us is gone. We are jarred, shaken to the core. But in time we wrap our mind around this new truth. We must. We must hope again.
Sentimentality plagued me as a youth; I bitterly wept at the passing of time. I refused to believe the finality of the end of joyful seasons, preferring to reject this natural occurrence. Acknowledgment did not come readily.
In time, God helped me grow in understanding. He is the author and finisher of my faith, He holds my days in His hand. So I learned to embrace the new, to run with abandonment, believing that the best was yet to come.
It did come; a long, vibrant, joy-filled season of planting and reaping. It has been wonderful. But this, too, must end.
Now I am arriving at a new juncture. It is time to embrace the death of a season, to run head-long into the new term of adventure set before me.
The best is yet to come. There were days long ago when I could not see that. But I was wrong. The best is yet to come. There have been plenty of moments recently when I have not been able to see that. But I'm beginning to remember and believe.
After all, the best is yet to come.
posted by Darlene Sinclair at
2:55 PM
3 Comments:
I need to remember and believe that as well.
Thanks for this post!
Dar, Please go read my blog. Good news!
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