It has been fairly dry in our corner of the plant. Southeast Tennessee summers seem to fall on the extremes of the precipitation plans. Either it rains every day or it does not rain at all. This summer has fallen closer to a lack of rain than an abundance.
This earthly season may be as indicative of the spiritual season of my soul as any. It is dry and I need rain.
What intrigues me most about a near brought is that nothing survives. The same rain that prospers the plants also sparks growth in the weeds. Both weeds and seeds need the same thing to survive – rain. And we have not seen much of it.
The grass has begun to brown. Plants reflect their sadness with drooping leaves hanging heavy from the dry spell. Trees sucking the moisture out of the soil have nearly ran out of substance to remove. Limbs get weak. Leaves turn early. And the wild ones, the weeds, dry up and wither. Nothing survives the dry heat.
This natural situation happens in summers. It also happens in our souls. A dry season choking out the weeds and seemingly killing what is healthy. The dry heat is destroying the weeds of the soul and the seeds of new seasons. Neither has hope of surviving.
Yesterday, as I worshiped, the Lord brought to remembrance a passage. A quick Google search helped me uncover what my memory couldn’t of Psalm 126. This is a section of pslams/songs that would have been sung on the journey to Jerusalem to celebrate the festivals. Imagine your family traveling with Car Karaoke. That is essentially the idea.
The closing stanza of the song sung about God’s city of Jerusalem be re-inhabited by God’s people says this:
Those who sow with tears
will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with them.
(Psalm 126:5-6)
As I stood there with my mouth singing the songs of the house while reading the song of ascent my eyes filled with tears. The heat of life is choking out the weeds, but my tears are watering the seeds. The difficulty is that seeds stay hidden until the right time. The challenge is we do not see the root growth taking place that will make what sprouts out of the seed strong. It is not immediate that we see the fruit of our tears.
Yet, they keep falling, watering the hidden seed.
To my friends facing the dry heat of life, God sees your tears. Even when we feel unseen, forgotten, or as if has not heard our prayers, keep crying. In season, we will sing songs of joy. Our voices will car karaoke our way to the place of celebration, the places of promise.
