autumn, Christ's return

The Rhythym of Melancholy

I have mourned the passing of summer this year. I’m not sure why.  I do love the beautiful mums and the changing leaves.

When we lived up north, though the autumn was glorious, I dreaded seeing the mums outside the stores. I believe they were an invitation for snow. Our first year there it snowed on Thanksgiving, and we didn’t see the ground until April. This Oklahoma girl was in shock. That was a loooong winter!

But I live in a warmer climate now and the mums aren’t as threatening. I can even plant them if I want. They are perennials here. Yet the cooler weather, open windows, quiet breeze, and dying leaves on the trees evoke a melancholy rhythm in my spirit. This time, my sadness is not because winter will seemingly last forever. It’s something more.

Though God’s wisdom behind the seasons is unfathomable, I sense creation’s mournful longing for Christ to return as the earth prepares for winter. Maybe after losing loved ones I have joined their choir.

The creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it in hope that the creation itself would be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time…(Romans 8:20-22).

Someday we will rejoice with the trees when Christ returns.

Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let them say among the nations, “The Lord reigns!” Let the sea resound, and all that is in it; let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them! Then the trees of the forest will sing; they will sing for joy before the Lord, for He comes to judge the earth. Give thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love endures forever. (1 Chron. 1:31-34)

The breeze will no longer hold a melancholy rhythm, the trees will rejoice. Can you imagine what that will sound like?

Grace and peace,
andy

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *