As we prepare to usher in yet another season of change, a time of gathering harvests from the seeds that were sown, I am reminded of a familiar phrase from Ecclesiastes that reads, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven… a time to plant and a time to pluck what is planted” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2, NRSV).
All of creation, it seems, knows that change is in the air. Children and their parents are flocking to local stores in search of school supplies and other essential items. The annual flurry of county fairs is winding down and, believe it or not, the leaves are beginning to show subtle signs of changing colors. Even the lush fields of milo, their stalks arching ever-upward into the sky as their plump heads begin to darken and change color, and parched fields of corn, resplendent in their green-golden majesty, are yearning to be “plucked up” and gathered.
In his fascinating essay, “There Is a Season,” Parker Palmer suggests that seasons is a wise metaphor for the movement of life; a metaphor suggesting that life is neither a battlefield nor a game of chance, but something infinitely richer, more promising, and more real. He writes, “The notion that our lives are like the eternal cycle of seasons does not deny the struggle or the joy, the loss or the gain, the darkness or the light, but encourages us to embrace it all—and to find in all of it opportunities for growth.”
While Parker Palmer may be right, many of us know all too well that while change may provide opportunities for growth in the form of attending a new school, starting a new career, finishing long-sought after goals, or entering a new phase of one’s life’s journey, often change does not come without a fight. Like it or not, we resist change. Why, I wonder, do we fight so hard to hold back the tide of change, particularly when it is inevitable? Is there something deep within our DNA, a survival mechanism of sorts that kicks in when we are pushed outside of our normal comfort zones or when others seem to be dictating and controlling the pace of change? Or are we simply afraid to try new things and to open ourselves to new experiences by leaving the comfort and security of the ordinary and the familiar?
As I prepare to embark on another season of change in my life, returning to Wartburg Theological Seminary in Iowa for a final year of study in preparation for ordained ministry, I will leave here grateful for the numerous seeds that have been scattered by my sisters and brothers in Christ; faithful disciples who take seriously their callings to teach, walk with, and uplift leaders for the greater church. And though this past year has flown by, a time of changing seasons punctuated by worship services, pastoral visits, confirmation classes, Bible study gatherings, and meetings, my time spent with the people of Prairie Faith Shared Ministry has been a season of my life that I will remember and treasure for years to come.
Perhaps if we let down our guard and allow ourselves to move out of our comfort zones, maybe, just maybe the fast-approaching season of autumn may help us open ourselves to the new and exciting possibilities that change often brings. “In my own experience of autumn,” writes Palmer, “I am rarely aware that seeds are being planted. Instead, my mind is on the fact that the green growth of summer is browning and beginning to die… But as I explore autumn’s paradox of dying and seeding, I feel the power of metaphor… On the surface it seemed that life was lessening, but silently and lavishly the seeds of new life were always being sown.”
Embrace the power of the metaphor. Be bold. Live courageously. Scatter the seeds of life’s experiences confident in the new life that they will bring.
Walking to Golgotha 