Spring is Hard for a Seed

I always grieve the loss of fall and winter. I’m not really sure why. All I know is that spring brings weariness and heaviness with every morning.

Most people are the opposite. Winter is their season of grief, nostalgia, depression, or low-grade anxiety.

But *sigh* my prolonged season of melancholy starts with the spring. (I am a mystery to myself)

It may be because fall, for me, is one big season of anticipation and celebration—the season of harvest, when we reap the fruit of seeds sown in faith and rest from our toil.

The cold of winter, then, draw us into stillness and gathers us together (and my heart explodes with contented joy). Winter settles us in front of fireplaces with books and blankets and and hot tea; it huddles us together at parades and football games and Christmas tree farms; it ushers us into coffeeshops as refuge from the cold. We slide into booths and bar stools, couches and armchairs, cheeks rosy from the wind, and shed our layers of gloves and scarves and stories from the year. Winter’s cold days and dark nights gather us into small spaces of celebration with our people; it gives us space to breathe and enjoy the satisfaction of an ending. 

But if the cold months bring us together, then the warm months seem to hurl us back into our lives, careers, and accomplishments. Spring exhausts me before it even starts. 

Yes, spring is the season of renewal, but it’s also the season of starting over.

In other words, spring is the best and the hardest season; in it, we face the hope and the pain of growth.

Like the rest of the earth, spring points us back to the soil, back to the beginning. Spring reminds us that if we want to reap, we first have to sow. Spring asks us to be faithful again, to trust again, to be willing to die again like a seed put back into soil. 

Spring is a season of sowing. It's heavy with choices and decisions and the weight of another year. And I don’t always like it. 

I love fall because I love the harvest. I love reaping the fruit. I love the celebration and the coming together and the resting. 

But spring? Spring is where I'm supposed to die. Again. Spring is where I wait. Again. Spring is where I join seeds in the darkness of soil and believe again that growth and harvest are coming.

It’s these days where I come face to face with my own weakness. I don't want to die; I don't want to work; I don't want to be pruned and see my branches lopped off and have faith that they will return with fruit. 

But I remember the painful truth: that to bear fruit, I must become a seed. That to find life, I must choose to die. And then wait. And then feel the discomfort of growing hungry roots. 

All this pain for the prize and promise of an abundant harvest. 

And the harvest is worth it. It’s so incredibly worth it. But starting over is still hard.

I wonder if anyone else feels the same. Maybe you’re grieving the end of a season of harvest and wondering if you have the strength to dive back into the darkness of soil, to be faithful another year, to die the death of a seed and trust that a season of fruit-bearing will come again.

Whatever this spring brings for you—joy or grief or a combination of both—I hope we remember that though the suffering is painful, the harvest is abundant and sure.

So, to be honest, I’m entering this spring a little reluctantly. I’m taking more naps than usual and feeling like the most emotionally uncoordinated human. 

Going back into a season of sowing forces me to throw myself fully onto the Father. That's so good and so hard. But I remember, with groans of pain and hope, to boast in my weakness because the Gardener’s grace is sufficient. 

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In this season, when it feels like the year will never end, and it’s time to dive back into the hard work of growth, it’s harder than ever to engage with Truth. Most days, I get to mid-afternoon and I’m not feeling it. At all. The Truths I read in Scripture earlier that morning seems like a distant memory. But I fight—mentally, emotionally, physically—to engage with the Truth, even though I’m not feeling it. And sometimes I fail miserably. But, praise the Lord, whose mercies are new every morning and who is faithful to grow my roots in the darkness. 

So what what Truth and I engaging with right now, even when I’m not feeling it?

“His grace is sufficient for me. His power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, for when I am weak, He is strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will not hunger; whoever believes in me will not thirst.” John 6:35

“You open your hand, you satisfy the desires of every living thing.” Psalm 145:16

“You are not your own, you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your body.” 1 Corinthians 6:20

“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I hope. My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” Psalm 130:5-6

"For the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God." John 16:27