Once, when I was little, I asked my dad what had happened to the forest as we drove through the Northwestern Ontario wilderness. The trees looked ugly and sad. Dead black things standing in silent testament to what once was.
Did you know that the black earth hides life? All we see is destruction, but the earth knows it as time to renew.
“The forest will grow back full of new life and food for the animals to eat.” Dad told me.
It can be the same with people. Don’t look at your burn out plots as lost. See them as places to grow new love.
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? 8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! 9 If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. 11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,” 12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. Psalm 139: 7-12 English Standard Version On BibleGateway.com
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Spring, a time many of us long for after a long dark winter. We grow again and unfurl our blooms… Just to have a frost crisp their edges.
Some of us weather it fine, some of us might carry blackened scars from unexpected transitions. Still, some of us might have to drop our first blooms. But don’t worry, you will grow new ones. Whispers of what once was, and promises of what will still be.
When something is hard to achieve, or difficult to grasp. When holding on comes with a cost, our human minds do one of two things. We cast it aside as undesirable, or count the risk as worth it, and raise the monetary value.
Sometimes, worth is more about the emotion behind the thing than the thing itself.
It usually surprises people when I tell them, “I do not care for the Christmas season.” “Arn’t Christians supposed to love Christmas?”
I guess most of them do, but I can’t help but feel an emptiness behind the brightly covered packages and glitz this world throws around during the holiday season. Expectations are high, but things never seem to pan out the way I mean them to. So why write about this now that the Holidays are over, and becoming a memory?
Because the light of Christmas is not supposed to stay locked into a few weeks of the year. The person of Jesus Christ grew and walked away from the manger, taking his flame of light to the very valley of death.
So today I choose to remind myself that though a modern Christmas leaves me empty, and ancient Christ fills me with light.
Look beyond how culture paints things to deep roots.