Autumn can be a mixed bag for the griever. It’s as if fall now has a death-shadow cast over it, with every falling leaf a reminder that life must end as the earth gives way to winter. Trees become skeletons with a thousand bony fingers casting long, eerie shadows from the light of a now-distant sun. Winter’s brush paints drab strokes over the vibrant colors, turning the world dreary shades of pewter and brown. Days become short and the once-fertile soil lies as dormant and as cold as death. If winter is the death, then autumn is the dying.
Ironically, it is in that dying that her beauty is revealed.
Then, I suppose each season brings its own special kind of beauty, if you care to see it. For instance, the stillness of winter is but an illusion. For hidden away from view, underneath the death and decay of the season, lie the seeds that fell in autumn: the very seeds that will burst forth into new life, come spring.
The seed has nothing to fear as it falls to the ground, for it knows that unless it dies, it cannot bring new life. What one calls “being buried,” another calls “being planted.”
What’s more, God has allowed us a glimpse of His perspective on the autumn of our lives. For those who have died in Christ, scripture calls death “precious” in the eyes of God. (Psalm 116:15)
Death is but the grand reunion of a weary traveler arriving home. To the home for which he was created. The Father sees the beauty of His child being transformed until, at last, the fingers of this life release him from their bony grasp and let him drift into the waiting arms of Jesus. Death, our final enemy, has already been defeated. And so, hidden away from our view, death bursts forth into life everlasting.
It is in the dying that the beauty of the Gospel is revealed.
Yet, for those of us that remain, the beauty of autumn surrenders itself to the cruelty of winter. This barren wasteland seems to go on forever as we await the coming spring. The dismal shadows fall over us and the light of the Son may often seem distant. We cannot see what is happening beyond the vale, so for a season, life feels dormant and ugly and cold—like a snowless winter.
But we must not despair! Hold on to this hope, my fellow valley-walker: though your winter may seem endless, after each winter comes a spring.
And spring brings glorious resurrection.
One of your very best ♥️