Think Spring

When your memories are greater than your dreams, you’ve already begun to die. – Eugene May

A mindset doesn’t happen accidentally. It takes a conscious effort to view today as temporal, and stay hopeful for tomorrow.

The present can be overwhelming, a metaphorical season of drought, harsh winter, or severe flooding. You might find yourself hampered by frustrating or debilitating conditions.

Or, maybe you were overcome by your yesterdays. Cumulative trauma, failures, tragedies, or injustices had an affect on your outlook. Bad events outnumbered the good, enough to induce an expectation of more bad ahead. Sometime during all that hardship, your dreams were buried.

It’s understandable that people surrender dreams and default to memories to fill the void. There are few things more excruciating than rallying to try again, to hope again, to end the vicious cycle, only to be met with more disappointment. When dreams cause pain, memories offer solace.

But, When your memories are greater than your dreams, you’ve already begun to die.

breaking-prairie-sod-3536

The American pioneers plowed land for a purpose: for food, for survival. It was hard work to break the sod, plant a crop, and keep the plot from reverting to prairie. As long as they worked the land, they improved their odds for an ample harvest. If they quit, the surrounding indigenous plants encroached until the farmed plot succumbed.

It takes work to maintain a healthy mindset, too. If you don’t keep your dreams and hopes for a good future alive, your mind can be overtaken by your past. Instead of forging the best possible future, you can cause your own stagnancy. Instead of being a plowed field able to support a healthy crop, yours can revert to weeds.

Genesis 8:22 (ESV) “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.”

Keep expecting, so when your drought, flooding, or winter ends — as they always do — your sod is already broken, inertia is overcome, and your momentum is forward.

Keep expecting, so when your spring arrives, you are primed and ready to fully engage in it.

11 See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me.

(Song of Songs, 2:11-13, NIV)

Look Again

I took a long walk near my home in the middle of winter. It was a dreary day. Overcast. Colorless. Chilly. Lifeless.

I considered the gray day an appropriate metaphor for lives afflicted by cancer, injury and disease, injustice and abuse, theft and destruction, or hatred and rejection. I thought the scenery was also aptly representative of our nation’s political and cultural landscape.

Today, I took another look at the photos, and contemplated the biblical book of Lamentations. Its author is widely considered to be the prophet Jeremiah. In it, Jeremiah is … well, he is lamenting.

He is crying. Grieving. Moaning.

Jeremiah begins the third chapter, “I am the man who has seen affliction.”

He isn’t wrong to grieve — in fact he has good reason to do so. For twenty more verses he mourns the life that has become his. He describes darkness, grinding teeth, chains, evil, enemies, his wasting body, a soul bereft of peace.

Then, beginning in verse twenty-one …

21 But this I call to mind,
    and therefore I have hope:

22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

Now, take another look at those winter photos …

Strain, if you must, to see  …

The color. The life. The warmth. The beauty. The hope.

Philippians 4: Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 

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It’s not that life isn’t hard, unjust, worrisome, or painful. It truly can be daunting, even devastating. And it’s right to lament those things — in fact, it can be essential for a future of wholeness, clarity and wisdom — but, before the heaviness of all that is wrong in our personal or collective lives burdens us beyond recovery …

Take another look at life. Strain to see good. Search for it as for gold.

It would be a shame to overlook the true, the noble, the pure, the lovely precisely when we need it most.

And it would be a grave error to forget the author of hope in the darkest of days.