Here it is, Labor Day weekend, the end of summer, the start of fall.
Tell me, what season starts as deliberately as fall. My oldest is only pre-school age, but still, I can feel it, the change. The end of summer madness, of sprawling, lazy days. The start of fresh beginnings, of rhythm and routine.
Honestly, I love the fall and I welcome the change, but as I consider the deliberateness that defines this season, I can’t help but take stock of the things I try to be deliberate about in my life.
Lately the list looks something like this:
So far, 2013 has been a year of blessing and growth for me. For the first time ever my writing life is flourishing. I can see God working in me, through me, around me. After years of being on and off, hot and cold, I have come to find that these three areas of my life, writing, devotions, and prayer, are intricately connected in way I am only beginning to realize. This discovery has changed me forever.
It’s an exciting time for me, and I wonder: Why did it take me so long to get here? Why did I wait so long to be intentional about these things that matter so much? I regret the years I spent being anything but deliberate.
I wonder, too, at how God never seems to hold these years against me. For years He waited patiently, and I know He still waits.
He waits because I’m learning. I was learning then and I’m learning now. I’m growing, and becoming who He wants me to be. And believe me; I have lots of becoming to do.
At the start of this new season, here’s what I hear Him telling me,
“I never hold these things against you because I’ve already held them for you, on the cross.”
Aren’t these the words we need to hear? Especially now. Especially this week.
Aren’t these the words we need to take with us, to school, to work, to the house, once full of kids, now empty?
Because the truth is, whatever He held for us then, He is holding for us now, because He holds us.
He holds us.
In things we wish we did sooner, in things we wish we didn’t do at all. In things that scare us, in things that make us crumble to the floor and weep. In things that make us anxious, in things we feel powerless to change.
In our regrets, in our worries, in our fears, He holds us.
As summer fades and fall begins to weave its spell, what are you holding against yourself? What are you holding onto? What are you holding at arm’s length? Whatever it is, might I encourage you to leave it on summer’s doorstep?
To let go and find that it’s held for you.
Let go and find that you’re held, by the cross, by the nails, by the unfailing love of the one who holds.