notes from hidden seasons
There’s something about the hidden seasons along the journey of becoming that are indescribably marking, and at great cost. Marked by constant tension, there are a thousand daily decisions you make along the way that no one will ever know about except by the fruit that comes from them. No one will know how many nights you’ve cried. How much you’ve surrendered, and surrendered again. How many trips to the altar to lay down what mattered to you more deeply than words could describe. The hopes deferred. The longings unfulfilled. The dreams unrealized. There is a profound loneliness in hidden seasons that those who’ve experienced struggle to describe, but there is a deep knowing in their eyes. A way of understanding that transcends words. They walk differently. Perhaps physically marked by the wrestling they’ve endured. There is a toughness to them, a resilience, but saturated in a tenderness and compassion only gained from experiencing dark, lonely, aching places. But what sets them apart from any other, is the settledness of their souls.
In a world of constant striving and hustling, they are at rest. There is peace about them that is so wildly attractive yet unfamiliar in an age of relentless dissatisfaction and chaos. They live from another world, nourished by a Source abundantly and continuously. They have learned to be content in every situation, every circumstance, for their identities are secure and their hearts cared for by the One who fills all and is in all and holds all things together. Who they’ve become wasn’t natural. It was forged. It was fought for. It was paid for.
How did they become this way? There may be a plethora of reasons, but I think one stands out : they embraced the gift of hidden seasons. They walked the narrow road, carrying their cross, as they died daily. And not only did they survive, they came alive. Truly alive. Because of who they walked with. The One with nail-scarred hands who has walked this road before and knows what it demands. The One who was rejected, despised, abused, forsaken, ridiculed, and murdered, taking upon Himself to the fullest the penalty we alone deserved to pay. He knows this road. He is well-acquainted with this road. And while He knows how every step can demand everything from you, stripping you of all you’ve known, all you’ve relied on, all you’ve acquired, He knows where it leads. Each step, even the weakest, smallest ones, have an impact greater than we can possibly know. For nothing is wasted. He works all things for our good. Even our missteps and backtracks.
And while hidden seasons can feel so lonely, you experience companionship and intimacy that cannot be cultivated any other way. A fellowship of suffering words cannot do justice to describe. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit walking with you. Carrying you and caring for you in ways beyond your understanding, and yet are so nourishing to your soul. To remain when every part of your flesh wants you to flee. Inviting you to discover the mystery that here, yes even here, you can experience abundant life. If only we’d allow ourselves to notice such an invitation being extended toward us daily, and ask for the grace to receive.