Autumn is a Dying Time

We inhale the crisp, autumn air as we set out on the leaf-strewn path. They crunch under our tread, while we look up and celebrate the colors of fall: golden hues of red, orange, and yellow under a pristine blue sky.

We are the classic autumn-aficionados, clutching pumpkin spice lattes in chilly hands, shuffling through flame-colored piles of leaves. We exhale, our breath leaving trails of illumined air, and scoot closer to the dancing fire to warm cold legs and fingers. The sparks dance and swirl into the night sky, joining the twinkling of the stars.

It's not just me. It's not just us. Autumn has a special draw. Pumpkin patches, apple orchards, corn mazes, and breath-taking multi-colored tree photos litter every social media site as everyone is eager to show their love and devotion to this beautiful season.

As a child I despised fall. It was such a dead season. Too cold for shorts and swimsuits, too warm for snowpants and igloos. It was rainy and damp and gray and gloomy. We went on color tours; we went to apple orchards. But to me, autumn just meant an in-between time. A waiting time between summer and winter.

But autumn isn't just a waiting time. It's a dying time. The leaves turn colors as a last protest of beauty before the bleak winter sets in. Yet they are dying, falling, rotting. And yet, there is beauty in the dying.

I love autumn because it gives me hope. It gives me hope that as I die to myself, my desires, and my own pursuits, there is beauty. There is beauty in surrendering the things I hold onto so tenaciously. Like a leaf letting go of its final grip on the branch,  I am learning to lay down my protests and anger and sail to the ground in surrender. As I shuffle through the vibrant leaves, I remember there is beauty here: amid the things I give up, the dreams, the plans... I don't just die to myself. I die to live.

One day the barren trees will be awake with buds. The buds will be blossoms, and the blossoms will burst into bloom. Leaves will unfurl, stretching after a long winter. And the trees will shake themselves alive, bursting with hope, joy, and energy.

But for now, autumn is a dying time. And there is beauty in the dying.

Rom. 6:11 - ... count yourselves dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus.