Turn, Turn, Turn

Soon I will be 37 years old. For some, that seems like a lifetime ago. There are two gentlemen at church that, when they greet me, call me 'young fella'. For others, like those in my confirmation class, they see me as ancient. Thirty-seven years old seems to put me at the age of Stonehenge. When I try and interact with them using some of their own lingo using words such as 'like' a lot, or throwing in a couple of 'Whassups', I can actually hear there eyes rolling. I might be a little past it, but as Steve Martin says (perhaps denying reality) "I still got it!"

So, I am almost thirty seven. That's how we say it in English. I am my age. My years determine who I am. If I was fifty seven - I should act like a fifty-seven-year-old. If I was thirteen I should act like an early teenager. But in most languages, the phrase for stating age is not 'I am..." but "I have thirty-six years." It seems like a slight difference, but in reality, the attitude difference is huge. If I say "I have thirty-six years" that means I am not defined by the digits, but defined by the ownership of the memories of thirty-six years.

A better way to look at it is, each of the years that I have might have a different theme because of location or outlook on life. For instance, my early twenties were defined by my college experience; my mid-twenties by traveling, my late twenties by early fatherhood. So, in a metaphorical way, each moment of my life is a rock - some are diamonds, some are coal, some are granite - whatever. But, I have them - they are mine and belong to no one else. As I look back at the moments of my life, I can sort the memories by category of rocks - diamonds, the beautiful moments of growing up, the fun moments of college, married life and children. These are the rarest and most beautiful like the gems.

The granite is the most abundant. I don't know the make up of the earth's rocky crust but it seems like there is a lot of granite. Granite is hard and composed of many different minerals - so is the majority of life. Most days are composed of repetitive patterns of behavior of which we sometimes take no notice. But, have you ever studied granite closely? There are rainbows of colors that sometimes our eyes miss. The granite of our lives is what makes us who we are; it shapes who we will be. This rock is the strength of our person.

Lastly, the coal. Of course coal serves a purpose. The coal of our lives, the episodes that we'd like to forget, or burn for that fact, reminds us of who we don't want to be. I don't want to be impatient, mean, envious, boastful, arrogant and rude. I don't want to insist on my own way, be irritable and resentful. Basically, the anti-love from 1 Cor. 13. But the coal, when pressured by heat and weight turns into diamond (after a very long time). We learn from our mistakes and we move to be better.

So, we have these rocks in our lives. These are our years. We aren't the things that we have done - we own them; we have them.

When I probably had seven years of age, I think I remember hearing the song "Turn, Turn, Turn" by the Byrds. Every time I hear this song it brings back some really groovy memories of my childhood - music tends to do that, to bring you back to a time where everything seemed a little more diamond like. The Byrds didn't write the song, actually Pete Seger did, but the Byrds made it popular with their twangy guitars and lilting voices. If you get a chance, YouTube it and listen to it again with fresh ears. Pete Seger may have written the music, but someone much older wrote the words: Solomon, third king of Israel.

Ecclesiastes 3: For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die...

In the next few weeks I'd like to go through the list of supposed opposites and dig a little more into the seasons of life. I like how Solomon understood life itself - seasons. I've heard that phrase before that the segments of life are defined by seasons: spring, summer, autumn and winter. Most would think that the seasons are of equal length but I would like to think that they are not. In my opinion, spring is the first 30 years, summer the next 25, autumn the next 20 and winter - whatever happens after that. Each season in nature is characterized by certain events and so is life.

Spring, new birth, new growth, new learning - everything is new. Solomon writes, there is a time to be born and a time to die. When spring rolls around it seems like every living thing is singing "Turn, Turn, Turn". The winter is past, life has come. The world has a new year. It is in the springtime of life when the sun begins to warm the earth. As I write this, those of you who might be reading this in temperate climates, just imagine the re-awakening of the earth from under a thick blanket of snow, like a sleeping giant shaking off the sleep, stretching and yawning, taking a huge breath! In spring we hear the birds beginning their happy songs again, the worms screaming in horror that the birds are back. The fresh wind from the west promising not snow but longer hours of sunshine soon. People seem to walk with a new bounce in their step, more willing to say 'hello' less willing to say goodbye. In this season, there is a time to be born and a time to grow, but spring is also a time to die. In the first years of our life, we learn to die to the things that hold us back. No longer are we completely dependent on our parents for everything. It is a time of utter change, and that can be frightening, just like death.

So, I haven't done a specific Bible study on this blog yet, but perhaps we can do one together. If any of you would like to share some stories of the springtime of your lives, the newness of life, new birth, please e-mail or respond to this post. I won't publish without your consent, but I would love to hear your own stories - your own diamonds, granite (and coal, if you wish). In the next weeks, I think I'm going to try and work through Ecclesiastes 3 so please read through the first 15 verses and give me some thoughts and ideas.

Peace,

Reid