Out bushwacking on my backcountry skis last week, I couldn't help but feel I was in the scene in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe where winter's icy grip on Narnia was loosening, overcome by the warmth and promise of a spring-out there somewhere! Streams were running full tilt and birds were singing. I found myself seduced by the kiss of March sunshine, stopping again and again just to let it shine upon my face--in no hurry to get anywhere.
Here comes the sun, little darlin'.
Here comes the sun.
It's been a long, long lonely winter.
It seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun.
I feel the ice is slowly meltin'.
Here comes the sun.
Winter is a difficult season for many of us. Cold and dark can seep into spirit as easily as bone. I'm a bit of a palar bear, loving the beautiful, brutal fragility of winter, but even I find myself longing for spring this year.
Several friends seem to have been hit especially hard this winter. Many pastors and churches we know seem to be struggling with an unnamable helplessness.
In these battles, vision is hampered by the long, dark night. It is difficult to accept where we are. Often times we are tempted to look for elusive, complex cures for our dormant spirits.
Perhaps the lessons offered by the changing seasons are far more direct and literal than we can fathom. All of nature waits patiently through the false death of winter. The stark beauty of bare branches speaks of unimaginable patience. Trees bear no fruit or leaves or green beauty for months.
Eugene Peterson's The Message, Romans 8:
"Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready . . . meanwhile the joyful anticipation deepens. The waiting does not diminish us anymore than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting."
Can we wait? Can we put our own ability to bear fruit, to impact our world, to make a difference, into hibernation? How much of who we are is tied to producing? Can we let go of the burdens of psuedo-responsibility we all want to bear? The waiting is so hard, but guess what? (more of The Message)
"Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. The Spirit does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs--our aching groans. The Spirit knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."
Maybe we don't need to be cured or fixed or made whole. Perhaps a step out into March sunshine might remind us all that spring be comin', that resurrection happens, that Christ is rising. All of this occurs with or without our striving.
In that light, we have this update: Lägom House is near completion! We plan on moving in this coming weekend. Next week, countertops donated by DuPont Corporation will be constructed by our dear friend and Board member, Blue Hannon. And that should complete construction!
In the brick work of our masonry heater, we have a stone inscribed with the word Lägom (which means "enough; just the right amount"). My son Jake and I stepped back to admire the heater. He put his arm around me and in the way only Jake can, said,
"Gee, Dad, if this is Lägom, I wouldn't want to see what too much looks like!"
Indeed, this place is "too much" for just Laurel and I. We invite you to "come and see" the place God has called us to build. The Moody Blues put it well in the song Watching and Waiting:
"Don't be alarmed by our fields and our forests; they're here for only you to share."
The doors will soon be open. There is some good medicine here for the early-spring doldrums. Join us in some "joyful anticipation."
Here comes the sun. Let's celebrate together!
Love,
Rock
P.S. We also invite you to check out our recently-launched website, and please pass on feedback! www.lagomlanding.org
