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Death and Harvest

 It's been a while since I've posted. A career shift and a much busier schedule has preoccupied my mind and blog posts just don't come to mind as easily. But I've been thinking about something today and wanted to share. 

It's Halloween -- a day when many are dressing up and pretending to be someone they're not as a cultural game of acquiring sugary snacks and saying hi to the neighbors. It looks different this year because of the pandemic, but the holiday is the same. 

I, however, am not of the trick-or-treat demographic. So, I'm at home reading and writing and thanking God for a weekend with nothing more than a small group dinner on the calendar. Aside from work, life is really simple right now and I'm okay with that. 

But somedays, if I'm honest, there's a restlessness in my heart. Being in my 30's means that my peers are mostly in very active life stages with the families they've built and the careers we're growing into. I'm watching people's lives pick back up to a normal pace, even as the pandemic looms, and if I'm not careful to catch myself, it's really easy to see what they have and what I don't. If I let myself compare, it's not long before I feel like a failure or at least a very, very late bloomer. 

But tonight as I was reading, I got a reminder I desperately needed. Katie Davis Majors has written an incredible book called Daring to Hope, which chronicles the trials and triumphs of life in Uganda as a missionary. So much of what she writes is more easily envisioned for me because of my time overseas. She wrote about the sunflowers in her backyard and how there's a grief process when they begin to die and the color of their petals fade in preparation for their death. But it's in this fading of exterior beauty that their insides are finally ready for harvest. More sunflowers and beauty can come later if these flowers yield a good harvest. But harvest requires a slow death.

It's late Fall here in the Midwest and given the wonky weather we've had this month, the trees and fields have been bare for a few weeks already. November and March are short seasons of their own: brown. Everything is brown in November and March and if I'm honest, it always makes me a little sad -- much like watching sunflowers die. In the upper Midwest, winters are brutal and though they arrive at the same time, we're never really ready for the long haul of a Minnesota winter. This time of year is the final warning: prepare... savor every last day of temperatures above 50 because it very well might be 6 months before it's this warm again. In small ways, we prepare for parts of our lives to die for a season. I'm never ready. 

Suppose, though, for a moment you or I could take the chaos that is 2020 and make some editorial changes. What if we could delay winter or keep summer for six more months? What if we didn't have to give up what we think is beautiful in exchange for BROWN? 

Sounds good, right? 

But make it a long term change and switch it to something more substantial than the weather. How would your life change if you could actually hit pause and remain only in the Summer-like moments of life? Maybe your "summer" would mean perpetual Saturdays. Maybe it would mean the kids would stay a certain age. Maybe you'd make it Christmas every day. It would be great for a while... but it would change us in ways we probably wouldn't want otherwise. 

I recently asked my students (teenagers who are longing for every bit of freedom they can find): "If this world no longer had rules, and you had total freedom to do whatever you want without legal consequence, would you like your life? " The immediate answers were classic middle school: "It'd be awesome! I could play video games as long as I want!" "I would never do my homework because there couldn't be any!" "I could more to somewhere warm!" "I could bring as many fruit snacks in my lunch as I want and I wouldn't get grounded!" All good... until someone realized, "Wait -- but, then, wouldn't that mean my parents didn't have to work? Or if they did, what if their bosses didn't pay them anymore because they didn't have to? How would my family have money to buy food?" And then reality hit: total freedom would mean total chaos. It didn't take long for us to conclude that sometimes the unpleasant rules or natural consequences are good and necessary measures for keeping the peace and growing us up. 

The same holds true for adults. We may not prefer the brown of Fall or the gradual decay of something that was once beautiful. We often prefer what is healthy, beautiful, aesthetically pleasing, and in full bloom. I think if we had the choice, most people wouldn't age past 35 or 40. There's something about this season that my peers and I are in that is so full of life-bearing vitality that we even culturally joke about 40 being "over the hill" and on our way to the season of brown. We prefer this bright and vibrant green because it's what society has told us we should want. It's fun to feel productive and purposeful. Health, youth-filled beauty, and external productivity are all highly desirable (and hirable) traits regardless of the task. We like to be liked... We want to stay young and 'green' and externally productive.

But you know what else is true of green plants? They aren't ready for harvest. And they're very ill-equipped for winter. 

I grew up in a small farming community and while I don't love the color brown, it was always intriguing to me to watch these vast swatches of land turn colors over the course of a season. If the combines were to go out while the crop is still green, the harvest is lost -- more damage than good is done because they weren't ready yet. There's something really important happening in the browning and drying out. The plants are learning to take everything they need from the soil, store it up properly, and prepare to share it's whole self with the next phase of life so that future generations can benefit. Soy beans and corn kernels aren't as tightly nestled into their homes because the next phase is letting go. 

I fully recognize that God moves every person's story at a different pace. No two are completely alike. So while this has kept me from despair when I'm tempted to compare my little life of one against the households of my peers, I have to wonder: are we all browning? Are we all preparing for harvest? Or, do some really get the option to not mature? Is it possible to be so busy with family life that we ignore the greater process of maturing to a point of being able to give it all away? Or is that a non-negotiable? Certainly I see that peers with young kids go through a type of sacrifice that I can't quite grasp. The fatigue and challenge of parenting well day in and day out is a type of harvest preparation. But even so, I wonder: can people go through the motions enough to get by but not really mature? 

As I see it, aging is inevitable. Development or independence is necessary. But maturity? That one seems to be optional. I know plenty of independent adults who never really matured past their early 20's. And similarly, I've met some high schoolers with very old souls -- kids who can't yet drive a car but who ask such intense heart-level questions you just know their minds are in overdrive trying to figure out how to live this life well. Maturity isn't a guarantee, but I'm becoming more convinced it's the key to a successful harvest. 

Here are some practical comparisons... See what you think.

An independent (yet immature) adult may know his or her preferences on an issue and choose to fight for them to be represented at all cost. The mature person can speak their mind and yet hold their tongue so as not to injure anyone else in the conversation. They are able to surrender their preferences without holding a grudge. 

The former may still tell the same jokes he did 10 years ago to try and conjure connection with you. The mature person is more interested in who you are today and isn't afraid of imperfect conversations to get on the same page.  

The former handles stress, loss, grief, or anger in the same predictable pattern as they did 10-20 years ago. The mature person has found ways to recognize a pattern and evaluate if it's healthy and adjust as needed. They can let go of old vices. 

The former thinks dualistically: this or that, us or them, yes or no, good or bad. The mature person can learn to see an issue from many angles and recognize the complexity before making a decision.

The former has little patience and struggles to forgive those who can't operate on their preferred timetable. The mature person empathizes, speaks up for themselves, but also gives grace enough to say "We will figure it out." 

I'm not here to judge you one way or another. Practical application is always up to you. What I am here to say is that I've decided I'd rather be less interesting externally and gain maturity than to remain green, even if that's what everyone else is doing. I trust God with all of my days. He may throw me into family life one of these days. But He might not. I can still choose to grow and mature by giving more than I hold onto. I'd rather live a low-key yet authentic life in pursuit of God-honoring maturity than to stay stuck in old patterns because that's what's comfortable. Comfort never really lasts.

The wisdom of God's Word has a way of preparing us for winter seasons or suffering in ways that the joy of summer never could. Wisdom teaches us to store up truth in our hearts so that if or when our present reality is not the future reality, we are prepared to launch. So while I'd never wish suffering on someone, I know from personal experience, it will show you what you're made of and who you really trust. Major life transitions tend to have a similar but more mild effect. If you choose to grow through the pain or changes, you'll find depth and maturity by way of a new perspective. The lens of suffering is never easy to wear, but it helps us keep the main thing the main thing. And then, once the suffering lifts, we are slow to take small things for granted again. We love others better and more quickly. We are less afraid of bad news. We are not shaken by that which we cannot control because we know the One who can. And He has already said He will never leave us or forsake us. When we know that what is in us is better off because of brown seasons, we are more ready to ultimately give life to others. Each of us have limited days. It's our choice as to how to use them. 

Are you ready for winter? Have you prepared? Is what's inside you ultimately better than whatever external thing you're clinging to? Can you embrace the brown for the betterment of tomorrow? 

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