My faith and I have entered into a quiet, delicate season. It is gloriously lonely, sweet, warm and fleeting.
I used to think that 'spiritual seasons' were a bad thing. I used to think they were a figure of speech that lukewarm Christians used to justify their falling out of 'hotness' with God. I sort of took offence when people said they were in a 'dry' season with God, because I think God deserves better than our excuses. I myself have been through those sorts of spiritual seasons where one month you are shouting His name from the rooftops, and the next you can barely force it passed clenched teeth. I know what it is like to sail on a holy high after an Easter camp, only to plunge into the coldest, loneliest term, wondering where the heck God is.
But I have lived three very intense, very amazing, very spiritual years. And though I have had ups and down in my life, my faith and my relationship with Jesus seems to have gone from strength to strength. Thus in a fit, or phase, of spiritual pride, I began to deem these ideas of justified spiritual seasons as simple laziness and unfaithfulness. I decided it was a choice that people made to slip away from Him. When things with God become less-than-thrilling, when we come up against something hard, or when God pushes some buttons that we'd rather ignore, it is so easy to turn away, ever so slightly, just enough so that we lose that acute intimacy, and God gets given a demotion in our hearts. The downward spirals commences, until one day we feel like it isn't our fault: that it's God's - He's distant, I can't help that. Excuses cloud over the truth.
See now if I had written this post a few months ago I probably would have left it there. I would've signed off with some encouraging flurry, accompanied by horrid undertone of spiritual superiority and judgement. But...
God has shown me that spiritual seasons are okay. They're not okay when they are due to the things I just mentioned, but sometimes a change is natural, much like winter melting into spring. God has shown me that He does not demand that we are always on fire for Him. He demands that we always love Him, that we always look to glorify Him, that we always try to walk in His ways. But He does not demand our constant display of zeal for His message, He does not require our non-stop hype and hysteria over our callings.
No.
To my surprise, God in fact loves to ebb and flow through seasons in our faith and our lives. Our Mighty Father is not only found in a burning bush. He is also found in whispers, those absolute heartwhispers that you yourself can barely hear. God is not only present when we can't help but sing in loud voices, when we pray hundreds of times a day, and can barely keep our noses out of His Word. God is also there when we are full of doubt, when we are tired and lonely and confused.
God has been leading me by the hand into a brand new season, one I've never known before, and one I never thought He'd find joy in. This season is quiet and lonely, in the best possible way. This season does not need me to pray a lot, and does not need me be with people. It is challenging me in such a non-confronting way that I'm allowed to ignore the toughness of it if I so desire. God knows me so well. I've had a few trying months, and all the while I've been striving so hard to not fall even an inch away from Him. I've been working to make a life and to surround myself with people and to not waste time. But God has led me into the wilderness, and taught me to let go of needing people. He has also taught me il dolce far niente, that is "the sweetness of doing nothing". He has given me permission to sit and say nothing and be nothing and learn nothing. It is healing beyond words. It will not last long... Christmas is near, then New Years, then I'm moving out of home and starting a full time job. But for now, I am revelling in this quiet loneliness and letting God show me who He is in these moments. I am finding whole new shades to God's glorious colours. I am meeting Him, hearing from Him in refreshing, delicate and ever-so-beautiful ways.
