February went by with a breath; in a blink. Somehow, the month that usually seems to creep by went faster than ever this year. Now it’s March. The other night, I heard crickets. If there’s one thing about winter nights, it’s that they are silent. The crickets chirping; the robins perched on the bare tree branches; the tiny buds on the peach trees and the scent of living, growing things remind me of a sensation that comes but once a year – spring.
And yet, we aren’t there yet. Spring hasn’t come for good. It tempts us – steals out, but then goes back into hiding. It will be a while before winter is finally past us. One more month before we’re sure that the plants won’t be killed by some late frost. One month – thirty days. Every time I go outside, I eagerly breathe in the scent of spring, wondering if I can wait that long. I wonder. Can I? But I do, every year.
Waiting – that’s the worst part of it. Waiting and hoping; knowing, but doubting, until finally the days are sunny, the nights are warm, and I can finally go to milking without a jacket. I can finally drive around and the wind rushing through my hair won’t chill me. I can finally see the orchard in white, once again, yet once more.
Waiting for spring reminds me of waiting on God. We wait for spring every year. Sometimes it comes quicker than usual, the days warm up soon and the sun comes out. We bask in its glory, relieved that there will be no cold for a long time. But yet, some years, spring comes late. We plant our sprouts, sure they’ll do fine, but yet the frost comes and kills them. We wonder if spring will ever come.
How silly we are to wonder, when we know it will! Spring will come, as sure as the sun will rise in the east and set in the west every night. We know it – but we doubt.
And we doubt God’s promises.
We doubt, though He has told us, though we know He always keeps His promises. The longer we wait, the more we doubt. We are an impatient people.
What are we waiting for? Our lives seem to still sometimes; to stay on a plateau, like the prairies where all is flat until the earth curves from sight. The sun rises; the sun sets. We blow back and forth like grain, but always on that same plateau. We doubt God will ever harvest us.
But He will. Like grain, we will be harvested. We grow and change; mature and ripen; and although we stay on the same plateau, we change. And He harvests us and we are ground into pure, white flour.
Waiting is always hard. It’s harder when we’re on that prairie, where all that seems to change is the seasons around us. But I promise you this: though our lives may now seem flat, though we may not notice how we are changing, God has put us here for His purpose, and we are growing, changing, waiting. Waiting for the day when He grinds us into pure white flour.
So do not doubt, my friend. Though it may seem that you will have to wait for the rest of your life before spring will come, have faith. Be strong. Let your heart take courage. And wait. Wait upon the Lord.