Life in the Barrenness

I'm looking outside my window at the barren branches of the trees and the harshness of the cold rugged ground. The sun shines more brightly through the stark limbs and there is a special beauty in this season---a beauty that most people look beyond because it is not evident or appealing to the human eye. When I look out, I think of words spoken by great men, words that I cling to and find hope within-- "when we are weak, he is strong; he must become greater, I must become less; unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." Sometimes when the ground is cold and hard, and the branches are lifeless and we are in our weakest state, there is a great work happening on the interior. We might feel like we are dying. We might feel like we are becoming less, but there is a strength that is found in this cold hard season. A strength that is greater than our own. The season demands us to surrender and give up our wills. The process might seem daunting or discouraging, even hopeless, but there is a season to come that is full of life and vigor; a time when we reap the fruit of the process. I've found that no matter how much we may ache for the season of fruit, there is a greater work happening in the barren moments. There is a communion that is sweeter and an understanding that is deeper. We've heard it said before, "life is about the journey, not the destination" and in this, I discover that the barren moments, the winter, the cold, the lifeless branches are to be embraced. Although we love the vigorous seasons of life and fruit, the is a deepening of the barren seasons bring a profound humbling and true sense of insufficiency; there is a greater presence and reality that is made known to us; a sense of centered-ness and connection. I am thankful. I am thankful for the cold season. I want to embrace this journey today and tomorrow and throughout the seasons. Lord, give me strength to walk through each day in whatever comes my way.