Cycles | Turn Turn Turn

I love the fall! As the summer sun is now setting earlier and the warm mornings are replaced by the brisk cool air, I am moved to thank the Lord for the shifting cycles of the seasons. The fall season for our family is full of birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and an abundance of meaningful family time together. For me, fall is also a time of retrospection. Sometimes, that reflection is bittersweet as I consider all that has shifted and changed over the years; the highs and lows and the wins and losses. Life itself is a continual cycle.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 references these cycles and sets the tone of expectation. Life has cycles and seasons; times that we will experience, enjoy, and in some cases, endure. Life is intricately woven with cycles of change as its center strand. I’m sure that all of you relate and perhaps some of you, like me, reluctantly surrender to that truth. The only thing consistent about change is that it’s inevitable.

In the midst of uncertainty (my pet word for life itself), I find it imperative to have a fortress, a terra firma, a solid ground to stand upon, when the inevitable occurs. In these seasons, I turn to the truth of Lamentations 3:22-24, written by Jeremiah. The previous verses lay out the context of Jeremiah’s “uncertainty.” He was a personal witness to the atrocities of war, of sin, of judgment; as his own nation turned from God to false prophets. He witnessed the darkness of tragedy (Jeremiah 3:2). He experienced the captivity and heaviness of grief (Jeremiah 3:7). He felt the bitterness of the hardship of his people being taken captive by their enemies (Jeremiah 3:15). Jeremiah was branded by uncertainty. It seared him, scarred him, deeply disturbed him. But in the midst of this intimate confession of how the uncertainty of life has marked him, he dares to hope.

Lamentations 3:21-23 (NLT)
Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the LORD never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.

May this be our hope as well. As the seasons and cycles of life turn, turn, turn, may we find God’s faithfulness, his unchanging love, his fresh mercies, to be our stalwart; our faithful companion. And may we trust him, like David in Psalm 23, to lead us through life’s hills and valleys to places of anointing and rejoicing. No matter which cycle life is throwing at you today, dare to hope in God’s fresh, unfailing love and faithfulness for you. He will lead you faithfully through it to the other side!

---

About the Author

Mike enjoys spending time with his wife and four kids. He loves Jesus, art, music, and poetry. He currently works as the Manager of Learning Technology Solutions for Los Angeles Pacific University and is passionate about adventuring outdoors.

Lent | Embracing Discomfort

It seems odd to say that I enjoy Lent. Lent is probably not a favorite to win “Most Popular Liturgical Season” anytime soon. But there is something that feels deeply necessary about this season of fasting and penitence, when we are surrounded by a culture of constant excess.

I am not against celebrations. But after the ongoing celebrations of the holiday season, I am ready for the opportunity to observe this quiet season of reflection and fasting. In our culture, we are constantly encouraged to put ourselves first and seek instant gratification. Anytime we feel hungry/sad/lonely/bored we can distract ourselves with our smartphones or grab some food at the drive-through. Taking a break from that, even in a small way — like temporarily giving up chocolate or social media — can allow us to slow down and look to Christ for the gratification we would typically get from the object of our fast.

And what happens when we do look to Christ — when we pray, meditate, or read the Bible but we continue feeling hungry/sad/lonely/bored?

Is it possible that Christ wants us to feel these feelings from time to time?

Is it possible that Christ wants us to feel?

Is it possible that, while living a life of instant gratification and comfort, we have grown numb?

Perhaps we have to sit in the discomfort awhile. Christ was uncomfortable, a homeless wanderer who was betrayed by a trusted disciple, then beaten before being executed in an incomprehensibly painful way.

Isaiah 53:3
“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.”

The word excruciating literally means “from the cross.” So then, crucifixion was so painful that it led to a word that now describes the worst pain you can imagine.

Most of us don’t really know what it means to suffer. I’ll never forget when I was studying abroad in the capital city of Ghana. One afternoon, as my Ghanaian friend was attempting to help me navigate the public transportation system, she turned to me and said seriously, “Ursula, we are going to have to suffer today.”

I looked at her confused, and she explained that the bus was not running, and I would have to find a way to walk the many miles home. But I had no idea how to walk home from where we were, and I had no intention of suffering. I didn’t have to — I had plenty of cash. I told her I would take a taxi, and she was surprised I could afford such an extravagance. But for only a few American dollars, I was able to escape a difficult situation.

I will never have to know the suffering of walking home for hours across a polluted African city, dodging traffic and open sewers. I will never know the suffering of the poor in Ghana or in other developing countries around the world, who don’t have welfare or financially stable relatives to turn to.

If I didn’t choose to, I would never have to know even the discomfort of going a day without chocolate or Internet access.

Matthew 7:13-14
“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life, and only few find it.

There is something else that stood out to me in Ghana, besides the extreme poverty. It was the deep Christian faith possessed by many who live there and the pervasive sense of dependence on God. Perhaps our comfort and material wealth in America has distanced us from God. Maybe during this season of Lent, Christ is inviting us into a deeper relationship with Him by allowing ourselves to be a little uncomfortable.

Maybe that discomfort will be the place where we finally find peace.

---

About the Author

Ursula Crawford and her husband Spencer have two young children, and their family enjoys playing hide-and-seek and dancing in the living room. She works as a communications and events coordinator with the University of Oregon. You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.