mist-ery

One of the adventurous parts of being human is that we cannot predict the future. Our foresight only extends so far. We can make assumptions, predictions, bets. Often these fore-casts are based on previous experiences or seemingly trustworthy data. But if we are honest with ourselves, these are not infallible prophesies.

This lack of concrete foresight is very…interesting, at the least. For some (probably most) of us, it is often frustrating to be in the thick of circumstance and not know what the outcome will look like. Sometimes making a decision feels like walking onto a wooden plank into a wall of mist, having no indication of whether that plank is a dead drop-off plummeting you to destruction, or whether it leads to somewhere…

…And if to somewhere, where does it lead?

Sometimes I wish that I had God’s all-knowing perspective on things. He is intimately acquainted with all of our circumstances. He knows what brought us here — who engineered our circumstances — and He knows what is around the corner, through the fog, at the other end of the tunnel.
Sometimes life feels like hanging stagnantly in mid air, like being stuck in limbo, unable to move anywhere of my own accord. Frustrating. Discouraging. Anxiety-inducing, if I allow it to be. It is kind of like having spring fever in January, knowing that spring is still likely three solid months away (or more, living in Canada).

Seasons like this are like an apple tree in the winter. Above the surface, it looks like the tree is dead. The harvest season has taken its fruit. The frigid cold of winter has stripped it bare of its lush greenery. It appears to be fruitless and forlorn.
What is unseen to eyes above ground is all the quiet growth that happens below the frozen surface. The roots dig deep and cling to the moisture below ground to keep the tree alive.* This is a period of quiet, deep, unseen and possibly painful growth for the tree. On the surface, it bears the cutting chill of winter wind and bends under the weight of the wet, heavy snow. But it is neither dead, nor useless. All the magic happens unseen, unnoticed, unappreciated.

Sometimes, life is like being an apple tree in winter. Spiritual “fruit” has been plucked. Leaves have fallen, and we feel bear and exposed to the elements of circumstance. With our human understanding being limited to the surface, to the immediate, to only what we can tangibly interact with, it can feel like we are stagnant and fruitless. Useless. Stuck in the ground and not doing anything of value, other than trying to hold up under the cold, thoughtless pressures of the present situation.

Point being, such wintery seasons are not pointless. We are simply not privy to what is happening beneath the surface. For all we know, God is busy drawing our roots deeper, challenging us to cling to Him for nourishment when it seems like we have been stripped of all trace of life on the outside.
These seasons are marked by various traits, differing for each person. Loneliness. Silence. Mourning. Illness. Waiting. Change. Mundaneness. Exhaustion. Pressure. Challenges.
We are typically prone to respond with negative emotions to these kinds of circumstantial symptoms. Fear. Frustration. Anxiety. Anger. Bitterness. Impatience. Impulsiveness. Doubt. Discouragement. Giving up.

Personally, I need to retrain my reaction to winters. Rather than growing discouraged and anxious, these seasons are incredible opportunities for me to cling all the more tightly to the Source of abundant life. He knows exactly what He is doing! When He seems to be telling me to wait, I need to patiently trust that He has something so unbelievably amazing in store that it is well worth waiting for. When He is using His carpenter’s tools to sand edges and carve out knots in my life, I need to trust that the pain I am experiencing in the present will produce something more beautiful than what I can see now. And when my life seems stagnant and unfruitful, I need to dig my roots even deeper into His Word; I need to more firmly establish my mind and heart in Christ, so that when the fruit does come, I will be able to bear it well…

Let us not grow weary in well doing. The day of the Lord is quickly approaching. Our time here on earth is frightfully short in comparison with the vast, awesome expanse of eternity. Our God is a God of goodness, order and purpose. He cares about details. He cares about each day; not because He is limited by Time, but because He created time and because we, His creation, operate within its bounds.
So be rest assured, He does not waste it. No matter how “stuck” or useless we might feel, He is always working in us, around us, through us. Though we are not in control, we have a choice as to whether we will work patiently with God or impatiently against Him.

It is a safe thing to trust Him to fulfill the desires which He creates.

~ Amy Carmichael ~

*Disclaimer: I am not a scientist/biologist by any means, so if I get these details/ideas wrong, please pardon my ignorance. I am aiming for a particular analogy, not scientific accuracy.