Salvaging a Splintered Season

Our weather has been completely schizophrenic this year.  Winter was so mild that even the plants were confused about when to bloom.  Mother Nature must be going through menopause.  Because we have certain expectations for certain seasons and she’s definitely NOT conforming to them.  Like a snowstorm mid-March.  Child, please.  We’re ready for daffodils and Easter dresses at this point.

I apply this reasoning to my life as well.  An entirely hypothetical example: When one has waited many years to add a baby to their family, it’s totes understandable if they have difficulty being emotionally available for others.  And a selfish mindset in the midst of hardship is commonplace, natural.  Right?

Actually, yes.  It is altogether innate and human to respond this way.  Certain situations elicit certain inherent reactions.  But Jesus wants us to transcend all that nonsense.  (I mean, of course He does.)  He calls us to a better way, a more fulfilling way.

I’m reading a book called Restless by Jennie Allen.  It encourages readers to identify their God-given gifts and abilities, in order to put them to use.  Wherever we are.  Whatever period of life we’re in.  With whomever our personal connections happen to be.  Seriously.  It’s a charge to look at our ongoing season not as an excuse, but an opportunity.

Most of us link our identity to the life stage we’re currently in: Student, graduate, professional, newlywed, parent, retiree.  But when our present stage sucks, so does our self estimation: Dropout, unemployed, divorced, barren, bankrupt.  This is why tying the measure of ourselves to anything other than Jesus is a mistake.  He ALWAYS sees us as chosen, necessary, loved, and important regardless of our (good or bad) circumstances.  And perhaps there’s *even more* room for insight and growth during pressing seasons.  That is if we get out of our own way.  Adversity can easily cause us to laser-focus on our lack.  To zoom in on capacities where we’re NOT being used, while neglecting the unique roles and responsibilities to which we’re presently called.  I don’t say this lightly.  But you don’t get an out because you aren’t experiencing the time of your life.  You are still needed.  There are empty spots in others and in yourself that can only be filled when you are operating the way God intended.  

Is my spiritual gift challenge reviving memories of Seinfeld's soup nazi?  ("No sanctification for you!")  I certainly hope you won't confuse my passion with pushiness.  (Pssst, it wouldn't be the first time!)  Listen, I get it.  There are stretches when introspection or family care HAVE to be the first and only priority.  And God has especially equipped you to work specific magic then as well.  But don’t overlook the blessings of reaching out by overly fixating on your burdens.  Example: My lovely Mother in law recently complimented me on being a good friend.  Not to brag, but she’s right.  Because even though I long for the busy of cradling an infant or chasing a toddler, our house remains quiet for now.  So I’ve decided to use my vacant moments to minister to my friends.  It’s a part time job.  Every morning I wake up and run through a list of who I need to check on.  (My friends have a lot of problems, it’s why we get along.)  I pray, send texts or emails, and sometimes deliver meals.  (Fyi-The meals aren’t made from scratch or overly delicious, but they’re food.  JC skipped my anointing in the kitchen.)  Since I have freedom and minutes to spare, it’s not hard to currently be available in this way.  I’d much rather encourage a friend with tea and company, instead of sulking over my situation while folding laundry (or -let’s be real- watching Netflix).  This simple action provides a beneficial outlet for everyone involved.

2 Corinthians 4:7 says, “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”  Consider this picture.  We are fragile vessels, damaged easily over the course of this rough life.  Thankfully, Christ’s love pours best between our cracks.  His light shines brightest through the broken places.  Shattering allows us to fulfill our highest purpose: Glorifying God by letting Jesus seep out and saturate our being.  Yes, it hurts.  But we can either dwell on the pain OR the possibilities, the season OR the substance, the chaos OR the Creator.  It’s up to us.  And here’s what I know about cracked pot people: We are warriors.  My fractured friends, it’s time to make our battle scars count for something.