The Haxtun-Fleming Herald - What can we reason but from what we know? -Alexander Pope

The creek north of the old place was still, silent and unmoving. Ice ledges intruded from the banks, enabled by low temperatures and periodic early winter snows. Steeply carved banks of overgrown brush were also silent, no movement visible in the tangle of bare branches and undergrowth. It was a picture of seasonal rest and waiting in anticipation of a distant spring. Glimpses of the creek from gravel roads offered up similar conclusions. The creek bottom was deep in slumber.

Like so many things, it took getting off the traveled path and venturing to water’s edge in order to appreciate how alive the creek actually was. In open water, the creek shallows could clearly be seen, patterns of shifting sand belying the notion of no movement. Even where the creek surface appeared smoothly inert, a patient eye could detect the flow of water as it revealed itself, producing tell-tale ripples around small rocks or branches. Lengths of gray-green algae below the water’s surface also responded to the nudging of unseen currents, the creek willing it to stay awake even in the dead of winter.

As Christina Georgina Rossetti penned, “In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, Earth stood still as iron, water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow …” Successive storms take a toll on the human spirit, chilling us to the very core at times. Deep cold seldom leaves of its own accord but must often be ushered to the door. It is sly and knows there will be opportunity once more.

We all encounter changing seasons of faith, moments of vibrancy contrasted with intervals when all appears deeply held in winter’s grip. As with the creek, we conclude dormancy prevails unless we take time to discover otherwise, exploring first-hand the currents of faith which signal an active though more subtle belief at play. Instead of dismissing the winterized faith of others as lacking substance and legitimacy, perhaps we would do better to recognize and appreciate its more hardy aspects. What is it about a winter’s faith that maintains hope for the verdant periods of spring and summer which are destined to come? The psalmist expresses hope that God will prevail over the dark and the cold.

“O Lord my God, you are very great. You are clothed with honor and majesty. From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work. You have made the moon to mark the seasons. How manifold are your works. In wisdom you have made them all… (Psalm 104:1,13,24, NRSV).”

The creek bottom informs us that all need not be dormant in our life of faith as we await warmer days. The beauty and richness of being alive in Christ is not swayed by season but can be found in all places at all times. Whether we wade fully into faith’s robust currents of spring or remain more prudent observers from the banks during the depths of winter, there is plenty of inspiration at hand if we choose to seek it. So bundle up. Revel in the quiet moments of faithful winter. Spring will soon be coming.