Springtime In NY

I've been in a bit of a slump. There's been no fruit in the vineyard, and that is cause for despair. I contemplated my failures and weaknesses and came to a conclusion. I was settled that in certain areas it was a given: after this many years of trying, there would be no fruit on those particular vines. Sounds probable, right? Yeah, probably. And promising, right? Wrong. I was pretty discouraged.

But the wind of the Spirit blows when He will. And the wind of the Spirit is a warming wind, refreshing, bringing hope, because He is faithful even when we are not. He never forgets us, His own people. He loves us so.

Sunday, I sat in church singing these familiar words -

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness,
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

The congregation kept singing but I was stuck on the first line.

"'Summer and winter and springtime and harvest.' Seasons - it's about seasons," I thought to myself. "Life is made up of continuous cycles - and winter leads to springtime."

Winter is where I had gotten stuck. Barren. Fruitless. Frozen. Hardened. Destitute of life.

He was reminding me; if I want to see fruit in my life, I first need springtime. Springtime, with the warmth of lengthened days in the sun removing the frost from the earth, preparing the soil to be worked. Then labor could begin: tilling the rich dirt, turning afresh the fallow ground, planting seed - good seed. Waiting. Weeding. Watering. Waiting some more. Pruning. This must all precede harvest time.

A fresh wind was blowing, arousing renewed desperation for fruit. As I took in His presence, I felt the hard, cold soil of my heart warming and softening. The frosty, hopeless grip of winter was fading. I could now receive words of encouragement and faith. He was moving, doing what I alone could never do - He was bringing springtime.

Now, as always, my heart is His to keep.