Scripture:
Mark 1:40-45
A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, "If you choose, you can make me clean." Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, "I do choose. Be made clean!" Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying to him, "See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them." But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
Five-minute Story:
As I sit at my desk, with a slight shiver in my being, I look out the window on the piled snow of a bright winter’s day. Somewhere under the thick coat of snow, the ground lies fallow. Dormant. Resting. Waiting. Spring is a way off. It is not the time for blooming, growing, and producing. These things will rapidly come – all in due season. Not now. Now is the season of being frozen and immobile.
Lest we romanticize the season as the beauty of draped snow might tempt us, winter is a harsh time. In these northern places, it is bitter cold. Winter is not kind or especially forgiving. Underground crushing forces of ice and hardness can crack rocks and foundations. These are the slow breaking movements that over time have shaped entire landscapes. They have also brought death and destruction. Winter is not for the faint of heart. And yet, without a good winter, spring is unable to blossom in quite the same way.
And here lies a paradox. On the one hand, the hard fallow of winter threatens life and existence. On the other hand, it sets the stage for the arrival of spring and the bringing of new life. Death and life dance in a timeless waltz. The cycle of creation needs the presence of winter fallow with all of its raw and unsympathetic strength. New life depends upon these forces and cycle. Certain things must stop, break, and even die for life to germinate, sprout, and thrive.
As I sit at my desk and wrap a blanket around my shoulders, I wonder at the cycle of my existence with God. I imagine my spirit is in a time of winter fallow. Instead of blooming, growing, and producing is God inviting me into a season of rest, dormancy, and waiting? Can I welcome the hard embrace of winter with the trust that God continues to work on shaping me while I sit wrapped in inaction? Is my faith strong enough to submit to the forces that proof and refine my very spiritual integrity? Do I have courage enough to be cracked open by the very hand that shaped mountains and valleys? Can I let forces beyond my seeing, which exceed my limited imagination, prepare me for a distant spring? Or will I expend energy on the foolish task of resistance?
As I wonder and question, I am reminded of a central truth of life itself. Despite all my efforts to the contrary – my planning, wisdom, and hard work – I am not in control of this gift called life. What is more, my life (and yours too, by the way) is part of a greater cycle of creation itself. There are seasons of fallow and produce. Winter and spring. Times when harsh conditions break us down and open us up. Times of rebirth and unexpected growth. Receiving each season as a gift from God becomes the challenge and opportunity of living an intentional existence. It is the work of acceptance.
Here is my prayer for you: God, help me to welcome whatever season my life happens to be in this day. Allow your hand to shape me in ways that reach down to the very core of my being – whether by harsh winter or delightful spring. Amen.
Note: I am grateful for the wisdom and insight of my Spiritual Director, Dick Bruesehoff who invited me to explore the image of winter fallow.
Reflection Questions:
When have you felt ostracized or unclean? Who are the lepers in our community? What stigmatizes and causes others to judge and exclude? When have you done this?