Screaming at dirt

Sometimes I think we’re like farmers screaming at the dirt. Or shaking our fists at the sky.

Here in North Dakota, you can hardly walk into a store or gas station right now without hearing somebody ask, “What do you think winter will be like?”

“We’re due for a real one. Had easy ones the past several years.”

That conversation carries more weight when your life depends on being ready. Winter is coming. Prepare.

I’ve been at war with a squirrel for the past few weeks. It scampers along my fence, gets on my roof, then jumps over to the neighbor’s. It provokes my dogs with its chirping and disturbs my tranquility. Which I suspect it enjoys.

But while I’m getting irritated, it’s getting ready for winter.

A season is coming, and it has something to do.

That brings me to Ecclesiastes 3:

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:”

We have four seasons on the calendar, but we use that word for all kinds of things. Hunting season. Hurricane season. And then there are the seasons of our lives.

Solomon writes about a time to plant and a time to pluck up what’s been planted. A time to weep and a time to laugh. Different times require different things from us. You cannot treat them all alike.

We understand that in a garden. We have a harder time accepting it in the work of God among us.

And that is where we can drift into something I call Christian mysticism. We become so consumed with finding out what God will do next that we neglect what He has already given us to do now.

There is nothing wrong with preparing for what may come. Farmers watch the weather. But we can start treating Scripture like a Ouija board or a deck of tarot cards, hunting for a private prediction about our future.

We go looking for somebody who can tell us exactly what is coming. Give it a Christian name, call it a prophecy or a word of knowledge, and we may never stop to examine what we’re actually asking for.

Are we seeking wisdom to live faithfully, or somebody to take away the uncertainty?

The farmer still has to get up and work the ground in front of him. He can prepare. He can pay attention. He cannot make it harvest time because he’s tired of waiting.

Neither can we.

We need to learn to work the season we’re in. Otherwise, we’ll spend it screaming at the dirt.