Fountains of Life

Changing Seasons

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I was meeting a friend of mine the other day and I’d arrived at the location several minutes before the set time. She, on the other hand, arrived several minutes after it and said to me, “You must be a morning person.” Responding quickly and smiling I said, “In this season of my life I am.” Because there was a time when I was more of a night person, sometimes studying late in college, other times with a nursing infant, or a dating teenager. But seasons change as we go through life.

Another friend and I recently came back from seeing the Fall colors up in the North Georgia Mountains. We Floridians don’t see leaves changing their colors much so it’s beautiful to see God’s glory in the vast shades of reds and yellows when we have an opportunity. Yet within the short time of being there, most of the colors had faded and the trees were almost completely barren — a seasonal change. 

All of us go through seasonal changes and do you realize that Jesus did too? Here’s one example.

In the second chapter of John we find Jesus, his disciples, and his mother at a wedding in Cana. When his mother found out that they’d run out of wine, she asked Jesus to help. But note how her son replied, “Woman, why do you involve me? My hour has not yet come.” (v.4) Then in the very next verse, like a good Jewish mom, she said to the servants, “Do whatever He tells you,” and, Wham!, Jesus’ season had changed.

Changes of seasons come and go throughout our lifetime, it’s normal. Leaving home, going off to college, joining the military, getting married, having a baby, living in an empty nest, all of these are different seasons. Losing a loved one — be it a spouse, parent, family member, or friend — also causes a seasonal change, A seasonal change simply means altering our lifestyle, which can occur even with switching a job or location.

As much as we may not like them sometimes, God created seasonal changes as a part of life. As the Byrds sang from Ecclesiastes 3 many years ago, “To everything there is a season.”

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. (Vs. 1-8)

And the best verse of all, verse 11: “He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

Colors continuously change around us and experiences bring different shades into our lives, but it’s easier to embrace the seasonal changes we go through knowing that Father God always remains the same. He never changes. (Heb. 13:8) He’s a constant source of stability within a change. So in whatever season we’re in now or in the process of changing, we can know that He’s with us, He loves us, and it will be beautiful.

The Stories We Tell

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I find it interesting that Jesus spoke so much in parables. He’d give “pictures” of things in a story rather than just lecturing with words and information. Ever wonder why? One reason — because God gave us a unique brain.

The brain has two distinctive sides — the left and right — and each one has distinctive functions. The left is more organized with facts, figures and sequencing, and the right is more artistic with creativity, imagination, and intuition. So if you think about Jesus trying to explain the kingdom of God, His Father, or just the idea of Him being the Son of God, it’s not really within the realm of our logical thinking.

How does it seem logical that God’s Son would come to save the world by having to die a gruesome death? And how does it seem logical that Jesus would have to go away in order to send the Holy Spirit to us? (Which, by the way, we can’t see yet He lives inside of us — explain that too!) Do we fully understand these things by reasoning in our minds? I think not.

So thinking isn’t always the key with God. That’s the left side of the brain. Try engaging your right side and see if the stories Jesus tells don’t make more sense. 

For example, take the parable of the Prodigal Son. Jesus could have given a lesson about how Father God really, really, really loves us. That no matter what we could possibly do, the facts state that He’ll still love us. And though that would be a good message, it doesn’t necessarily get “into” us. It has to make the eighteen inch journey from our head to our heart — which can be an extremely long process at times. So rather than knowledge and evidence, Jesus presents a story for us to relate to.

Jesus told numerous stories about the kingdom of God too — it’s like a mustard seed, you have to be like a little child to receive it, it’s here right now, it’s within you, etc. Parables (stories with a lesson) are usually perceived through the right side of the brain, that artsy side. If we try to understand God’s ways through reasoning and rationalization — the left side of the brain — it’s can be difficult. Yes, we do use the left side for studying the Word, research, and many other things, but some things about the kingdom of God we just can’t lean on our own understanding. (Prov. 3:5) We simply have to trust Him. His ways are higher than ours. (Is.55:8,9)

Stories connect with our heart. Why else do we cry, or laugh, or feel sad when someone is emotionally sharing their testimony? We “feel” it! Just like movies and books, stories engage our hearts. And that’s what Jesus came to do — to capture our hearts, not our heads.

That’s also why the best teachers and speakers use their real-life testimonies —their stories grab our hearts so we understand internally; we truly feel what they’re saying and we can relate to it. 

The stories we tell — our testimonies — also have power. Rev. 12:11 says we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony. Our stories connect and touch the hearts of others which enables them to see Jesus and come to know Him. 

If you’re ever at a loss of knowing what to say to anyone concerning Jesus, tell them one of your stories of salvation, healing, provision, or comfort, and watch how the Spirit draws them to Him through it. 

By Cyndi

Bend, Don’t Break

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Being a native Floridan, I think there’s something in our genes that causes us to get excited whenever there’s a tropical storm or hurricane nearby. Not that we don’t pray for safety and protection for ourselves and those affected — some of us even go down to the beach and speak to the storm — but it’s simply an atmospheric phenomenon that stirs us up inside. 

It’s hard to fully explain the experience of wind, rain, the cooling of the air, and a change in barometric pressure; I imagine there’s a scientific reason behind it all. But watching a roaring ocean and swaying palm trees somehow reminds me of the power and majesty of God — it’s terrifyingly beautiful. 

Psalm 92:12 says “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree…” Palm trees have a way of bending easily to strong winds. They may have their tops blown off, but they usually continue to stand against the fury blasting them over. And isn’t it interesting that God uses them as an example of us, the righteous? 

Most of us would probably agree we’ve each had our share of squalls and tumultuous winds that have beat us up. We may even be in the midst of an onslaught right now. But God made palm trees to bend and not break. Like them, our roots are to be grounded, standing strong, yet able to sway with the winds of change and circumstances.

Furthermore, this verse says we will flourish. Not only can we bend and not break, but we can genuinely flourish! The saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” isn’t in the Bible, but it’s kinda true. The experiences we gain as the storms in life beat us down are the very things that can strengthen our faith. We accumulate “test”-imonies as we go through tests. And the Word says we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimonies. (Rev. 12:11)

I believe: The tempests we bend with become the towers that stand.

We Floridians see these storms and the palm trees bowing, and we wait. God is giving us experience, which gives us wisdom and patience for the next time a storm comes around. (James 1:3) It’s not always easy, for sure, but He can bring us peace when chaos is all around us. Bend like a palm tree, my friend. Bend, don’t break. 

 

(Photos taken in Atlantic Beach, FL after Hurricane Ian passed through as a tropical storm.)

Lessons

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Yesterday I picked up an old book on my shelf, Let Go, by François Fénelon, a collection of letters he’d written, and browsed through it a little. Glancing through some of the sections I’d underlined years ago, I came upon this counsel he’d given to a friend: “…love humility, obscurity, weakness, and submission. These things, so despised by the world, are the accomplished teachers of all truth.”

Hmmm. Teachers they are? (As Yoda might say.) 

Then I thought about it.

Humility — teaches me I don’t know everything. Nor will I ever. I may think I know a lot, but humility has taught me to always continue learning. Like adapting to new technology. Gone, for me, are the days of simply playing a piano at church; now we have a shiny red expensive keyboard with a ga-zillion knobs, dials, and slides that will do basically anything you want it to. Humility keeps me teachable, even to a younger generation.

Obscurity — reveals my pride and arrogance and the need to be seen. When I’m hurt because no one acknowledges me or what I did, God reminds me that my value and importance doesn’t come from others, but from Him. It’s a true heart check. Is He alone seeing me enough or am I looking for (or even needing) something from someone else? Obscurity keeps me hidden under His wing, anonymous to the world. 

Weakness — exposes my fears and flaws. In this world, weakness is regarded as a negative, something to be ashamed of, ridiculed for. Being weak makes me feel powerless and afraid. Most of us want to be seen as strong, yet, if it’s only my strength, it has limits. When I’m caring for my elderly mother, it can be demanding and difficult emotionally and physically, draining my might and patience. But Father God is the Almighty One, full of power and glory; and in acknowledging my weakness, it allows Him to be strong in me. (2 Cor.12:9) Weakness keeps me reliant upon God, not myself. 

Submission — uncovers my control issues. I mean, who really likes to be bossed around? But it’s not about forcing or dominating people or even circumstances. It’s about authority. I’ve tried to manage my life on my own, and I just go into debt, stay angry, and loose all peace and serenity. Traffic will drive me crazy, printers will refuse to work correctly, and toilets will stop up — all things I can’t control. Yet, when I submit to His oversight and remember that all things in life work together for my good (Rom.8:28), then I can relax, take a deep breath, regain my composure and continue on. Submission keeps me under His authority and protection.

So I think Fénelon got it right. These four things are great teachers of truths, though I’m still in the learning process. How about you? Had any good lessons lately?

By Cyndi

My Father’s Voice

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By Cyndi

I was probably about 16 years old when our family first entered a “bikini cup” race here on the St. Johns River. This was a sailboat race where at least half of the crew had to be women and a female had to be steering the entire time. For our family — a dad, mom, and two daughters — the qualifications were no problem.

My family had sailed on the river for years and had even raced in a few other races, but normally I was part of the crew. I’d wench in sails, let them out, and stare at the little tell-tale pieces of yarn on the luff hoping to set it to the fastest position. But this time I was appointed the helmsman. Of course, my dad stayed as captain and overseer, but I was the one driving.

Unlike daysailing, racing was a little stressful, especially at the beginning when all the boats are tacking back and forth waiting to cross the starting line. Everyone is under sail, not motors, so there’s quite a skill in this. My dad helped me get into a good position and prepare for the start gun.

As the cannon boomed, we trimmed the sails and took off on a beam reach heading north towards Marker 3, the first turn. Sailing side by side, we were with a bunch of other boats at first, then after a while they all spread out taking different routes using different strategies. Each of us was hoping to get to the marker first and ultimately win the race.

My father was a good sailor and had taught us well, so I was very attentive to all the direction he was giving me at the helm as we glided along in the nice breeze.

When we were approaching the first turning point, the boats began compacting, each one hoping to round the marker as close as possible without loosing any speed or accidentally hitting it. My anxiety jacked up as you could almost touch the boat right next to you we were so crowded. I wasn’t sure how we were going to change directions in this cramped situation and I was in charge of driving this thing! My heart was beating so fast; it was intense!

But the voice of my father kept me focused. “Not yet… not yet…” he said patiently as the nearby boats felt inches apart. “Wait a bit…”, I was about to panic! Then suddenly he said, “NOW!” and in blind faith I shouted “TACK!” and swung the tiller to the other side. Sails were luffing loudly, wenches were grinding, people were yelling, and all the boats switched directions at once, rounding the marker like a group of choreographed ballet dancers in a row. Quickly trimming up and setting their sails, the boats took off down the river onto the next leg of the race. We’d made the turn well and without incident. I was relieved. 

That was my first marker rounding in a race being at the helm steering on my own. Fortunately, as I mentioned beforehand, I wasn’t on my own. My father guided me through every stage of it. This truly was a “marker moment” in my life (no pun intended). In that race, I knew if I only did what my father told me to do, trusting him, it’d be okay and things would work out. 

It’s been many years since my dad has passed away but that day on the river at Marker 3 was a lesson I’ve never forgotten. Today, I see my Heavenly Father watching over me, calmly guiding and directing me just like my earthly father did in that race. Sometimes I’m anxious or don’t always know when to change directions or make a move, but He does. I just need to listen to my Father’s voice. 

(By the way, we took 3rd place in our class in that race and I still keep the little silver cup on my bookshelf.)