“To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven.”
–Turn! Turn! Turn! (The Byrds; 1965)
First, an admiring nod to the stamina of our friends in the northeast, as well as our fellow North Carolinians in the mountains. For you, I’m preaching to the choir with this post. No sympathy expected! Nevertheless, we in the Piedmont region are sick of winter and ready for spring. Well, I should speak just for myself and my friends who commiserate with me.
We’ve had an unseasonably cold winter and, even on balmier days, the wind has blown with such gusto we could steal Chicago’s moniker of “Windy City.” For my money, I’d like spring weather to begin the day after Christmas.
One thing I love about the mid-Atlantic is our four seasons. As spring turns to summer and we endure the humid, hot days of June, July, and August, we welcome the advent of fall. Once winter descends, we anticipate the inevitable cold but, in my opinion, it overstays its welcome. One season predictably morphs into the next, and it’s welcomed with open arms . . . for a while, that is.
And so it is with our lives. Both the rock band, The Byrds, and the author of Ecclesiastes–likely King Solomon–had it right. That scripture includes, “…a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance . . . a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak…(Ecclesiastes 3: 4, 7 NIV).”
Our reality is we go through seasons of gain and seasons of pain. When we experience gain, all is right with the world. When we journey through pain, we long to move on and, when we do, we realize no season is permanent. So, we hope for a new season of life and then it arrives, just like our anticipation of spring’s advent is validated by the first bulbs bursting through the still-frozen ground of winter.
The beauty of our lives is a time of pain can, by faith–or, for some, by mere intestinal fortitude–be followed by a time of gain. That terrible season makes us more appreciative of the good times. We enter a time of healing–not “closure,” mind you, as that’s a mythic word used by well-meaning people who probably haven’t experienced devastating loss.
We move on in a world now different, with our sorrow somehow stowed in a part of our brain that permits us to return to a new normal, but still allows us to call on that painful experience or those memories when we want or need to–a difficult lesson to learn, but one most of us have faced at some point.
King David also acknowledged this process in his psalm to the Old Testament God: “Sing the praises of the Lord, you his faithful people; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning (Psalm 30: 4, 5 NIV).”
How can family and friends manage to smile at a funeral service? Because their weeping lasts for a “night,” and they know joy, though not currently felt, will once again return.
If you’re in a season of pain, my hope is you won’t walk it alone, but that you’ll feel the presence of your family members, your friends, and God–even if he has to carry you for part of the journey.
May this be “a time to dance” for you!
20 Comments
Leave A Comment
“To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven.”
–Turn! Turn! Turn! (The Byrds; 1965)
First, an admiring nod to the stamina of our friends in the northeast, as well as our fellow North Carolinians in the mountains. For you, I’m preaching to the choir with this post. No sympathy expected! Nevertheless, we in the Piedmont region are sick of winter and ready for spring. Well, I should speak just for myself and my friends who commiserate with me.
We’ve had an unseasonably cold winter and, even on balmier days, the wind has blown with such gusto we could steal Chicago’s moniker of “Windy City.” For my money, I’d like spring weather to begin the day after Christmas.
One thing I love about the mid-Atlantic is our four seasons. As spring turns to summer and we endure the humid, hot days of June, July, and August, we welcome the advent of fall. Once winter descends, we anticipate the inevitable cold but, in my opinion, it overstays its welcome. One season predictably morphs into the next, and it’s welcomed with open arms . . . for a while, that is.
And so it is with our lives. Both the rock band, The Byrds, and the author of Ecclesiastes–likely King Solomon–had it right. That scripture includes, “…a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance . . . a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak…(Ecclesiastes 3: 4, 7 NIV).”
Our reality is we go through seasons of gain and seasons of pain. When we experience gain, all is right with the world. When we journey through pain, we long to move on and, when we do, we realize no season is permanent. So, we hope for a new season of life and then it arrives, just like our anticipation of spring’s advent is validated by the first bulbs bursting through the still-frozen ground of winter.
The beauty of our lives is a time of pain can, by faith–or, for some, by mere intestinal fortitude–be followed by a time of gain. That terrible season makes us more appreciative of the good times. We enter a time of healing–not “closure,” mind you, as that’s a mythic word used by well-meaning people who probably haven’t experienced devastating loss.
We move on in a world now different, with our sorrow somehow stowed in a part of our brain that permits us to return to a new normal, but still allows us to call on that painful experience or those memories when we want or need to–a difficult lesson to learn, but one most of us have faced at some point.
King David also acknowledged this process in his psalm to the Old Testament God: “Sing the praises of the Lord, you his faithful people; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning (Psalm 30: 4, 5 NIV).”
How can family and friends manage to smile at a funeral service? Because their weeping lasts for a “night,” and they know joy, though not currently felt, will once again return.
If you’re in a season of pain, my hope is you won’t walk it alone, but that you’ll feel the presence of your family members, your friends, and God–even if he has to carry you for part of the journey.
May this be “a time to dance” for you!
20 Comments
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“Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you’ll dance!” Leeanne Womack, I Hope You Dance 2000
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Well said, Tim! Each season gives us gifts to appreciate, and each season we experience makes us appreciate the others. God’s blessings abound through it all!
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When we hit the bottom, the only place to look is up.
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Sometimes I think it’s easier to live at the bottom, to stay there, walking with Jesus, walking with others in that season, learning that flowers still bloom, the birds still sing, and yes even at the bottom joy comes in the morning, the same as on the mountaintop, because God is good, and is good all the time, no matter what the season we are in.
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So true, Tim. When I think about the very dark seasons in my life, that verse always comes to mind. God has brought me through them all.
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Thank you Tim. A wonderful reminder that seasons of sorrow and pain are not permanent. The sun returns. We are changed but we can go on and thrive in spite of loss. Blessings, Dyann
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God is forever faithful. Looking forward to spring and the renewal that we are blessed with annually. Love your thoughts and perspective!
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I’m living in a season of pain that keeps lingering. I want it to end! I pray each night that it will end. And, I awaken each morning knowing it has not. But God provides unlimited resources of strength to help me weather each day. I know, one day, either the pain will end or I will end. That is what the certainty of God’s hope offers me now and in the life to come. Until then I’m keeping my dancing shoes ready!
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Footprints in the sand…
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Beautiful words and reminders. Knowing this is not our home helps when I’m discouraged.
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“Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you’ll dance!” Leeanne Womack, I Hope You Dance 2000
Great song, Dianne!
Well said, Tim! Each season gives us gifts to appreciate, and each season we experience makes us appreciate the others. God’s blessings abound through it all!
They sure do, Lissa! Thanks!
When we hit the bottom, the only place to look is up.
And, when we see someone who’s hit bottom, we need to extend a “hand” up! Thanks, Laurie!
Sometimes I think it’s easier to live at the bottom, to stay there, walking with Jesus, walking with others in that season, learning that flowers still bloom, the birds still sing, and yes even at the bottom joy comes in the morning, the same as on the mountaintop, because God is good, and is good all the time, no matter what the season we are in.
That’s a very optimistic way of looking at it, Laura, which is perfect! Thanks!
So true, Tim. When I think about the very dark seasons in my life, that verse always comes to mind. God has brought me through them all.
Isn’t it great to lean on Biblical truths, Karen? Thanks for that perspective!
Thank you Tim. A wonderful reminder that seasons of sorrow and pain are not permanent. The sun returns. We are changed but we can go on and thrive in spite of loss. Blessings, Dyann
Amen, Dyann!
God is forever faithful. Looking forward to spring and the renewal that we are blessed with annually. Love your thoughts and perspective!
Thank you, Donna!
I’m living in a season of pain that keeps lingering. I want it to end! I pray each night that it will end. And, I awaken each morning knowing it has not. But God provides unlimited resources of strength to help me weather each day. I know, one day, either the pain will end or I will end. That is what the certainty of God’s hope offers me now and in the life to come. Until then I’m keeping my dancing shoes ready!
Nancy, I’ve been right there with you. Keep the faith … and keep praying! Thank you for being brave enough to share.
Footprints in the sand…
Exactly, Bruce!
Beautiful words and reminders. Knowing this is not our home helps when I’m discouraged.
Good perspective, Sandi. We’re just “passing through!”