If you have spoken Christian-ese for any amount of time, you have heard other Christians, or maybe yourself, talk about "spiritual seasons."
This verbiage is so well known that it shows up in countless Christian songs. A few of my favorites songs that talk about this specifically are Seasons by Tracy Nitschke, Let the Ground Rest by Chris Renzema, and Not in a Hurry by Will Reagan, United Pursuit.
But for as much in my Christian life that I have heard about, learned about, and talked about spiritual seasons, I think my understanding was base at best.
You see, before, I thought spiritual seasons were just sort of random. Kind of like the weather in Indiana in April--sometimes it snows, sometimes it rains, sometimes it's 70 degrees and you get a sunburn. I didn't see much of a rhyme or reason as to why certain seasons were times full of gut-wrenching pain and others overflowing with blessings, why certain seasons were full of tremendous spiritual growth, and why others were dry and lifeless.
I knew God had a purpose behind the season I was in. I believed he ordained it, was in control of it and it was ultimately for the good of my sanctification and for his glory. Yes, yes, I believed all of that. I don't say random to mean pointless or trivial but simply that the order is not important.
But what I failed to notice before, and what I am finally starting to notice now, is the deliberate and logical way seasons come and go. There is a rhyme and reason why the season you are in now came after the one you were in before, and the season you are in right now is preparing you for the season you will soon be in.
Maybe this seems obvious. Maybe I am just a little dense, but this realization was pretty profound for me.
The season I was in before the one I am in now was one the most incredible seasons, specifically because of the community I had during that time. The season before that one was completely empty of community. Now I find myself, not totally in want of community, but with far less community than I had last season.
A few days ago I asked my mom to pray for deeper friendships and a stronger sense of community here. I also shared with her how the girl I felt like I was finally creating a real friendship with might be moving away in the next year.
She expressed her discouragement for me and how she didn't understand why after such a difficult season in college trying to find a Christian community, and then finally getting it when I moved back home, I had to reenter a season of struggling to find community.
It wasn't until that moment that the pieces clicked. I responded to my mom that maybe the reason I had that community that I did was so that I would be filled up enough to endure this season without as much community.
And the more I thought about that, the more little things I began to realize. I realized that during my time living in Crawfordsville I had much more free time. I was able to spend hours studying the Bible, I read a bajillion books (a lot of them were Christian books, challenging books, and books about ministry and missions), I had access to tons of mentors, spiritual leaders, and resources.
It could be easy for me to look back on that season of my life and think had I not had it so good during that time, the season I am in now would be easier somehow because I wouldn't know any different. If I had just gone from little to no community in college to trying to build community here, it might be easier because it's what I had always known.
But God specifically wanted me to experience that type of community, that type of growth, that type of being poured into before coming here where building relationships would be set to a snail's pace trying to learn a new language and new culture and find my place in a new city, a new church and a new environment so different than the one I was used to.
And I truly do believe that the Lord was filling up my cup, brimming and overflowing, to give me everything I would need for this new season of my life.
Now, I don't want to give a false impression of my life right now. I am not suffering by any stretch of the imagination. I have a very good life here. I have a wonderful guy I get to date. I have familiar faces in Bible study and English classes that are beginning to feel like friends. I have a puppy that gives me a lot of joy despite causing me to lose my patience 47 times a day. I am beginning to cultivate stronger relationships with the women in small groups and within the church.
I also want to say I know it won't always be this way. I know with more time, more fluency, and more intentionality, I will begin to have the community and deep relationships I so crave.
And even though I know all of this logically, I still feel lonely. I still feel like I am not really connecting. I still feel like I am on the outside looking in. I still feel like friendships that go past the surface level are just out of reach.
And I think it's beautiful that I have a God who knows that I shouldn't feel this way, but knows that I do anyway and knew that I would before ever coming here. He knew that making deep connections here would prove more difficult than I was used to and so he made sure to fill up my cup before I left.
He knew I would be busy here, that I would feel overwhelmed at times, that I would often feel there weren't enough hours in that day, and that simple and quick tasks would become difficult and time-consuming. He knew I wouldn't be able to spend two hours every day reading my Bible and journaling out my prayers and finishing a new book every month, so he allowed the last season I was in to be full of that.
And how cool that my seasons in college taught me to be content when it's just me and God.
The words of Philippians 4:11-13 come to mind: "Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me."
And so I know how to live with and without. I know how to drain my bank account every semester for college and I know how to live comfortably without worrying about paying bills. I know how to have joy and purpose single and I am starting to learn how to have joy dating.
And maybe that's one of the lesser realized purposes of seasons. Because when we are able to walk through the best and the worst seasons we realize that through the strength and spirit of God, we can learn to be content no matter what the season.
And the ugly flip-side of that coin is that we can learn to be discontent no matter what the season too.
And so, as corny or cliché as it probably sounds, we get to choose contentment in this season. Because like all seasons, it's only here for a time. I know soon I will find myself in a new season and it might be harder than the season I am in now, or maybe easier, who knows.
But you know what I do know? That the seasons of my life that I have been the most overcome with thankfulness and gratitude and joy have not been the ones that have been the most comfortable, the easiest or the ones that looked the best on the outside--they have been the ones that I looked only to God to give me satisfaction, peace, joy, and contentment.
I also have a somewhat unorthodox opinion that going through unimaginable pain makes the rest of the trials of life that come your way much easier simply because nothing can compare to that.
I have walked through deep griefs and sorrows and I am still here. I came out on the other side of that season. And not to say I have already gone through the worst seasons of my life (no matter what I say when I am feeling melodramatic and moody) but I have already walked through the hardest seasons I have ever known in my 24 years.
And if I can learn to be content in those seasons, I can definitely be content now.
I am thankful for this season. I will be thankful when it ends. I am thankful for what I am learning now. I will be thankful for what this will prepare me for in the next season.
You are loved and you are not alone,
S
