Fall
I just woke up from a dream I had, where I showed up to a big gathering at Horizons (dressed in a toga, actually), having forgotten that I was supposed to give a talk to the audience. I literally hadn't prepared a word. So I quickly got up front, my mind blank, saw the rather large crowd on the bleachers stretching out before me, saw the beautiful fall day around me, and started (like any good speaker) by talking about the weather. This, more or less, is what followed.
A lot of people say fall is their favorite season. I know it's mine. The crisp air, the beautiful leaves in all their glorious assortment of color--it's like nature's reminding us of what it's capable of. I love to go up in the mountains as the aspen trees are changing color, and see the beautiful sea of delicate, quivering leaves, splashing their color onto the canvas of the mountainside.
One might consider these beautiful colors as the last words of dying leaves--the last glorious shout before their end comes. One might even be tempted to think of it as a desperate cry for attention before their inevitable death overtakes them: "Look at me!! I'm valuable! I'm beautiful! Love me!!"
But most of us don't think this way. We seldom see the leaves falling as something truly tragic. Why? Because we know that after the winter has passed, spring will come, the leaves will grow again, and their beauty and life will be restored to us anew. We don't see the fall as a tragedy because we know the spring will come. We don't see the leaves' death as a tragedy because we are sure of the coming rebirth.
Sometimes, though, winter comes early. I remember a few seasons in Colorado where an early snowstorm would hit in September or October, before the trees had let their leaves die. What happens? If there's enough snow, the weight of the snow collects on the leaves and eventually breaks the branch. I remember taking a chain saw to these huge branches literally covering my backyard after one particularly heavy early snow. These branches looked strong and powerful, but they were swiftly felled by the unexpected winter.
I believe most people live their lives like these mighty branches, believing that what matters most is to make themselves strong and beautiful, decorating their lives with glorious leaves that glimmer in the summer sun. We strive for success, we strive for others to love and value us, to see us as beautiful and strong and important. "If I can show the world how beautiful my leaves are, then I will be happy." They might even think, "Come November, I'll have created my beautiful life and will be ready to leave in style."
But those unexpected storms have a nasty habit of showing up. And unlike in Nature, where snow might come in September, but surely never in July, we never know how short our lives might be. As the Psalmist said, "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (90:12). We simply have no guarantee for the future of our lives, no matter how strong and beautiful our branches may be.
Jesus said in the gospel of John that "Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds" (12:24). You see, there is a death that is not tragic, but beautiful. The kind of death that leads to rebirth, like the leaves falling in autumn, is beautiful and glorious. It is the leaves submitting to God's way, allowing His hand to bring them down because they know He will lift them up. Only if the leaves refuse to die, insisting they remain strong and beautiful and "alive," will the snow be able to destroy them. Only that death is truly tragic.
The beautiful colors of the falling leaves are not tragic because of the rebirth to come. Jesus' death on the cross, though terrible and sad, was not ultimately tragic, because, as Peter preached in Acts, "God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him" (2:24). There was so much life, love, and beauty in Christ that death simply could not contain him. Even better, unlike the spring which eventually turns to summer and then fall again, Jesus' death for us destroyed the very power of death itself. "For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God." (Romans 6:9-10)
As we identify with Christ and submit to the loving hand of the Father, He will bring us down so that He may lift us up--beautiful, umblemished and eternally new, free forever from death and sin. If we die to ourselves to live in Christ, if we allow God to kill our selfishness and pride and envy and all the other things that we fear giving up--that we we fear we will not be strong enough or beautiful enough without--then this death will be like the falling of the leaves, radiant in their beauty, even in their death full of life.
A lot of people say fall is their favorite season. I know it's mine. The crisp air, the beautiful leaves in all their glorious assortment of color--it's like nature's reminding us of what it's capable of. I love to go up in the mountains as the aspen trees are changing color, and see the beautiful sea of delicate, quivering leaves, splashing their color onto the canvas of the mountainside.
One might consider these beautiful colors as the last words of dying leaves--the last glorious shout before their end comes. One might even be tempted to think of it as a desperate cry for attention before their inevitable death overtakes them: "Look at me!! I'm valuable! I'm beautiful! Love me!!"
But most of us don't think this way. We seldom see the leaves falling as something truly tragic. Why? Because we know that after the winter has passed, spring will come, the leaves will grow again, and their beauty and life will be restored to us anew. We don't see the fall as a tragedy because we know the spring will come. We don't see the leaves' death as a tragedy because we are sure of the coming rebirth.
Sometimes, though, winter comes early. I remember a few seasons in Colorado where an early snowstorm would hit in September or October, before the trees had let their leaves die. What happens? If there's enough snow, the weight of the snow collects on the leaves and eventually breaks the branch. I remember taking a chain saw to these huge branches literally covering my backyard after one particularly heavy early snow. These branches looked strong and powerful, but they were swiftly felled by the unexpected winter.
I believe most people live their lives like these mighty branches, believing that what matters most is to make themselves strong and beautiful, decorating their lives with glorious leaves that glimmer in the summer sun. We strive for success, we strive for others to love and value us, to see us as beautiful and strong and important. "If I can show the world how beautiful my leaves are, then I will be happy." They might even think, "Come November, I'll have created my beautiful life and will be ready to leave in style."
But those unexpected storms have a nasty habit of showing up. And unlike in Nature, where snow might come in September, but surely never in July, we never know how short our lives might be. As the Psalmist said, "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (90:12). We simply have no guarantee for the future of our lives, no matter how strong and beautiful our branches may be.
Jesus said in the gospel of John that "Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds" (12:24). You see, there is a death that is not tragic, but beautiful. The kind of death that leads to rebirth, like the leaves falling in autumn, is beautiful and glorious. It is the leaves submitting to God's way, allowing His hand to bring them down because they know He will lift them up. Only if the leaves refuse to die, insisting they remain strong and beautiful and "alive," will the snow be able to destroy them. Only that death is truly tragic.
The beautiful colors of the falling leaves are not tragic because of the rebirth to come. Jesus' death on the cross, though terrible and sad, was not ultimately tragic, because, as Peter preached in Acts, "God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him" (2:24). There was so much life, love, and beauty in Christ that death simply could not contain him. Even better, unlike the spring which eventually turns to summer and then fall again, Jesus' death for us destroyed the very power of death itself. "For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God." (Romans 6:9-10)
As we identify with Christ and submit to the loving hand of the Father, He will bring us down so that He may lift us up--beautiful, umblemished and eternally new, free forever from death and sin. If we die to ourselves to live in Christ, if we allow God to kill our selfishness and pride and envy and all the other things that we fear giving up--that we we fear we will not be strong enough or beautiful enough without--then this death will be like the falling of the leaves, radiant in their beauty, even in their death full of life.
posted by Seth | 6:50 AM
|
5 comments
