Soul Seasons, Part 5: Soul Winter

Winter. No one wants to think about it this time of year (except a few snow bunnies I have as friends), but it's inevitably coming. Although winter has a few highlights for me (Christmas and my daughter's birthday), most of the time the word "winter" sends a chill down my spine. Interestingly enough, the cons that come to mind about winter can be spelled out in two word phrases such as limited travel, close quarters, less sunshine, blistering cold, tight muscles. Even the personification of Old Man Winter brings a mental picture of a white bearded, cruel curmudgeon who delights in hurling snowball grenades and icicle spears at a climate-oppressed people. The challenge that I face in the wintertime is getting through it with joy, and not losing hope. Does that describe your struggle between December and March? 

As in the other seasons of the soul, there is a winter. If you're not in wintertime, there is a high probability that it is coming your way. If you've ever been through an extended season of loss, trial, and hardship, you've been through a soul winter. Life around you seems less forgiving; the blows just keep coming like a regularly scheduled barrage of winter storms. Instead of having your arms wide open in stunning vulnerability, you find your arms embracing yourself tightly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead of abundance and freedom, you are scrimping and struggling spiritually. You remember with sad longing the days when you were coasting effortlessly, but now you find yourself inching up a steep incline. But if this is where these words find you, don't despair. Surprisingly, everything you've learned in all the other seasons will help you get through this rough patch. How?

Stay Warm

I spend my winter going from one warm place to another. I go from the house to the van. From the van to the store. Although I can't avoid being outside entirely, I know that the cold isn't my final destination; getting to a warm place is key. In order to stay warm in this brutal soul season you're in, you have to cover the area that loses the most heat: your head. So many battles are waged inside the mind, and keeping your mind "warm" in the midst of the icy blasts of life is like fortifying the command center of an organization. As the state of the mind goes, so goes the rest of the individual. It's a struggle to not become bitter when life gets sour, but it's not impossible. In the summer, we learned to give thanks- and that's one way to stay warm. Giving thanks isn't just for November- it's a 365 day of year proposition. In every soul season, there is always something to be thankful for. In spring, we learned to beautify our surroundings; that we can use wisdom to make any situation beautiful, and this includes our minds. 

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Philippians 4:8 NLT

These words were penned by the bad-guy-turned-good-guy Apostle Paul not while he was on the beach sipping a cold drink, or in the company of friends at the lake, but alone in a prison. A PRISON. And not the kind of prison that inmates in America experience today, but a dank, dark dungeon. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul was able to experience warmth in the midst of a soul winter. His arms and legs may have been in shackles, and his physical body behind stone and bars, but his mind and his spirit were free. To loosely borrow lyrics from "My Girl", when it was cold inside, he had the month of May. His mind was set on the exact opposites of what he was experiencing. His thoughts shot straight past the small truths about what he was feeling, and with the laser focus we learned about in autumn, he was able to hone into the bigger truths about God's character. Paul turned his spirit from a thermometer, subject to the changing climate around him, to a thermostat, that controlled the climate around him, and thereby he was able to keep warm. 

Keep Hope Alive

In the dead of winter, I find myself looking online for pictures of warm, lush places. I've been known to change the wallpaper of my phone to a beach, or a flower carpeted field somewhere. Am I torturing myself? Maybe. But deep down inside, I'm nursing the thought that someday, the barren wasteland around me will match the picture I have on my phone. Jeremiah in the Bible was in a horrible state when he looked around him. All he saw was pain, devastation, loss, and hopelessness. His people had turned their backs on God, and were now living out the dire consequences. His heart was dashed into pieces remembering Israel's glory days, and now seeing her desolation. The picture of the past didn't match the picture from the present. Let's crouch down to his slumped posture and feel his agony.

I cry out, "My splendor is gone! Everything I had hoped for from the Lord is lost!" The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Lamentations 3: 18-20

Pretty depressing, huh? But that's life sometimes. Not the pretty picture we are often painting on social media. Jack Frost has nothing on the searing bite life can have. And yet in the vicious soul winter squall, we see a break in the clouds over Jeremiah's head, and hope streams down in silken threads:

Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, "The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him!" Lamentations 3: 21-24

In Disney/Pixar's film Wall-E, the earth was trashed. Quite literally. The entire landscape of earth was piled so high and so deep with trash that life was choked out. But not all life. In the midst of the mountains of debris, Wall-E finds something completely paradoxical. Somehow, someway, a tiny green plant was able to thrive in the most unforgiving soil. He gingerly scooped up that tender life form with the earth surrounding it, and placed it in an old boot. SPOILER ALERT: the rest of the movie is built around him and his companion Eve protecting this plant from destruction. Hope must be protected that vigilantly. There is so much in life that threatens to pry open the sweaty fingers we're using to cling to hope and get us to let it go. World events. Difficulties. 

Hope is outnumbered by a million and one things, and yet only a sliver is needed to overcome them all. If we place our hope in God, we'll realize that even in a seemingly eternal soul winter, His mercies do begin afresh every morning.

 With the rising of the sun, comes enough hope to get us through our day. And when we pillow our heads that night and all seems lost, we wake up to new hope the next morning. Might life still be hard and cold? Probably. But there is always hope. Answer your soul winter's bludgeoning by daring to hope. Winter won't last forever. It's a season, remember? It has a beginning, a middle, and a rewarding end: springtime. Until then, stay warm, and keep hope alive. 

Did any of the soul seasons resonate with you? Gather up your courage, and let me know in the comments below! You never know who you'll be able to encourage with your story. Also, if you've missed any of the seasons posts, make sure to check out part 1 here! No matter what season of life you find yourself in, thrive, my brave friend, no matter what comes your way.

Breathing In Hope

 Breathless. When I think of that word, I think of the time my sister, at 10 years old, slipped on a puddle in the bathroom and fell onto the side of the tub. The wind was knocked out of her so forcefully that she passed out. Or I remember the time my son broke his fall on his arm and his diaphragm. His first complaint was not the arm that was then broken, but that he got the wind knocked out of him. I think of this past Christmas, when the burning frankincense I had smelled gave me a reaction that almost sent me to the hospital- breathless.

Most of the time, we don't think about breathing. It comes naturally; the casual rise and fall of our chests goes completely unnoticed. There is too much life happening all around us to think about it. But every once in a while, life knocks the wind out of us- and breathing, or lack of it, is the only thing we think about. The only thing that's important. The only thing that matters. Being made breathless can happen physically, but it's not limited to that. It can happen in a moment. Like the moment you get shocking news, the moment you discover drugs in your child's room, or the moment you realize your marriage is in trouble. It can happen in the moment your doctor tells you the diagnosis, the moment in the office when they let you go, or the moment your car is slammed by another. Have you ever experienced that sudden jolt that jerks everything important into alignment? Suddenly, all the important things in life come floating to the surface, while all the unimportant things settle out of sight. 

Usually when life knocks the wind out of me, a fear blizzard forms, and the "what-ifs" come flying at my face like a gust full of snowflakes. And I see my husband, my kids, and my relationship with God with stunning clarity. The thoughts brought to mind aren't the material possessions I want, the comparisons I make, or the arguments I had that day with the kids. The thoughts brought to my mind are, "Did I love enough in life?" "God, are You still in control?" "Will my worst case scenario come true?" "Why did I spend so much time on the things that didn't matter?" The gifts that breathlessness brings are crystal clarity, properly held priorities, and this all important question: What am I breathing in?

I saw a movie last night where there was a crisis on a plane, and the passengers were energetic with panic. There were screaming women, frantic men, and pandemonium in the cabin. The captain, desperate to calm down his passengers, pressed the button to release the oxygen masks from the ceiling. The passengers were instructed to sit down and place the masks on their faces. They obeyed, and all got to task on breathing in and out. There was oxygen already in that cabin, because the frightened passengers were obviously very much alive. But the captain knew that they needed concentrated doses of oxygen to nourish their taxed lungs and hearts. He knew that getting them to sit and breathe would give them something to do other than panic. He knew that as they breathed in and out intentionally, that in time, their pulse would slow down and their lungs would relax.

If life has dealt you a blow in the stomach, and you're gasping for air, you're not alone. I've been there, as frightened as those passengers on the plane. Screaming, crying, and desperate for relief.  What are we going to breathe in? Will we heave and gasp fear, panic, and despair? Will we choke and sputter chaos, discouragement, and hopelessness? Or will we listen to the voice of our Captain to sit down, place the mask of faith on our faces, and breathe in concentrated doses of hope? The air in your lungs won't change your circumstance. The hope you breathe in will still allow for tears to make their way down your face. What you breathe in through the mask of faith is the hope that will keep you anchored when the wind and the waves threaten to tear your life apart. 

"Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls." Hebrews 6: 18b-19a

I'm not promised that difficulties will go away. I'm not promised things will be easy. I'm not promised that life will go back to normal. I'm promised something even greater than that. 

I'm promised that the hope I breathe in through faith in Christ will be my anchor when the wind knocks the air out of my sails. 

Hope in what? Hope that God is faithful. Hope that He can redeem anything. Hope that He is in control when I feel out of control. Hope that when the pressure in my cabin changes, that the God of grace will drop my faith mask for me to use just in the nick of time. And He will for you too- as long as you draw breath, and beyond. You are anchored. You are loved. God has made a way for you to breathe again.